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9 








ROBERT WARREN, 

The Texan Refugee. 


THRILLING STORY OF FIELD AND CAMP LIFE 


DURING 


THE LATE CIVIL WAR. 


PHILADELPHIA : 

THE KEYSTONE PUBLISHING CO. 
1890. 


COPYRIGHT 

By JOHN E. POTTER AND COMPANY 
1S79 


Transfer from 
U. S. Soldier’s Homo Lfbjp* 
Oct.28,l9Sl 


PREFACE. 


The recent war between the States gave rise to 
many courageous deeds, and furnished the histo- 
rian, the poet, and the novelist with the noblest 
themes that can inspire the pen of any writer. 
Nor was it the battle-field alone that brought into 
play the highest qualities of manhood; some of 
the most signal instances of patriotic self-devotion 
and heroic endurance were enacted at home — in 
every town and hamlet throughout the land. The 
purpose of the present story, which is founded 
upon actual facts, is to present to the reader a 
picture of events occurring during the late Civil 
War, in which the strong points and striking 
features of Southern life and character in camp 
and field, as also the home circle, are faithfully 
portrayed; and with a view of preventing the 
stirring scenes of that momentous period of our 
national existence from passing out of the mem- 
ory of the present generation, their narration in 
a highly attractive and entertaining style is now 
offered to the public. 


(iii) 






TABLE OF CONTENTS. 




CHAPTER I. 

The Lone Star State 


PAGE 

• • 5 

CHAPTER II. 

At the Polls 



CHAPTER III. 

Waylaid 



CHAPTER IV. 

The Parlor and the Cabin 



CHAPTER V. 

Anarchy 

« 


CHAPTER VI. 

“Near Used Up.” 



CHAPTER VII. 

The Journey Northward. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The Lakes 



CHAPTER IX. 

Tad’s Cabin Burned 


. . 8 $ 

CHAPTER X. 

On the Island 




(v) 


1 


vi TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XI. 

PAGE 

Saved, and yet Lost 103 

CHAPTER XII. 

Kentucky m 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Speculations. . 120 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Barbecue 130 

CHAPTER XV. 

Trials of Southern Loyalists 139 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Old Man’s Story 149 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Preparing for Active Service 158 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Situation after the Battle 168 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Unwelcome Visitor 183 

CHAPTER XX. 

Again on the Road 192 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Fort Donelson 202 

CHAPTER XXII. 

The Home at Gonzelletta ..213 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. vii 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

PAGB 

The Four Women in Council 224 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Journey to Tennessee 233 

CHAPTER XXV. 

The Journey Continued 245 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

On the Atchafalaya 256 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Warren, Gaines, and the two Dawns ........ 270 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Father and Son . . 0 303 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Shiloh 31 1 

CHAPTER XXX. 

The Ideal Battle 322 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Disasters. 349 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Trials of the Campaign 361 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

The Lost Sister ...... 378 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

The Scouts Re-enforced ....... 392 


Viii TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

PAGB 

The Field after the Battle 407 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

•* The City of a Hundred Hills.” 433 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

The Confederacy Bisected . . 448 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

In Hospital 473 

CHAPTER XL. 

A Mighty Man of War 501 

CHAPTER XLI. 

Little Ned 519 

CHAPTER XLII. 

Old Friends 531 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

The Last but One 545 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

Gonzeljjota . .554 


CHAPTER I. 


THE LONE STAR STATE. 

The mass of our countrymen know as little about 
Texas as they do about Tartary. Indeed, their 
ideas of both places are somewhat alike. As Texas 
is yet destined, by its soil and productions, to be the 
Italy of America, it will not be considered foreign to 
give a short sketch of this favored land as a proper in- 
troduction to the story of one of her sons. 

Few countries present such a variety of climate, 
surface, and soil as Texas. It abounds in rugged 
mountains and sea-like prairies, in dense forests and 
open plains, in fertile fields and arid deserts. On 
its northern front the clear streams are frozen in the 
winter season, and the maple, walnut, and beech grow 
on their banks, while mountain trout in myriads ani- 
mate the waters. The same streams, flowing south to 
the gulf for hundreds of miles, become sluggish, 
muddy rivers, reflecting the live oak, the pecan and 
wild orange, linked by the amorous mustang vines 
into a tangled mass of tropical glory on their banks, 
while the gar-fish and alligator glide through the 
sleepy waters. The vegetable and mineral produc- 
tions of Texas vary with the face of the country. 

1 * 


6 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The hills of the central north are rich in gold-bearing 
quartz. Vast veins of almost pure iron are found in 
this region, and quarries of white marble rival the 
famous productions of Italy, while coal in abundance 
crops out from the ground. 

Going south to within one hundred miles of the 
gulf, the ores are lost, nor is the smallest pebble 
met, to break the level expanse of deep, rich loam 
which stretches away, far as the eye can reach, into 
boundless prairies. Here and there on the sea-like 
surface clusters of timber, like islands, rise, and in 
the peculiar mirage that in the summer time is ever 
changing the distant forms, the groves seem mir- 
rored in the grassy ocean. Thousands of large- 
horned cattle revel in the rich, green pastures. 
Flocks of wild geese fill the air with their shrill cries, 
and herds of red deer sport through the meadows 
of Indian pinks, Texas stars, and flowering cactus, 
which in the spring time convert the prairie into a 
vast, variegated carpet of ever-changing hues as it 
rises and falls in billowy undulations before the soft 
south wind. 

In this cosmos the apple and peach, with the hardy 
cereals of the north, yield bountiful harvests, while, 
down by the gulf, the orange, the pomegranate and 
fig inclose fields of corn, cotton and sugar. This di- 
versity of climate, soil, and productions is only ex- 
ceeded by the difference in the classes that inhabit 
Texas. At one time it was the rendezvous for the 
outcasts of every land ; the debtor and the desperado, 
the robber and murderer, from west of the Rio Grande 
and east of the Mississippi, found in its dense forests 
and uninhabited plains a perfect asylum. Those at 


THE LONE STAR STATE. 


7 


all inclined to industry had an inducement to settle 
down, from the ease with which they could live, where 
the prairies teemed with cattle and the soil was so 
productive of harvests. 

After Texas had become one of the family of 
States, a different class of people emigrated thence. 
Mechanics from the northern States and planters 
from the South, sturdy, blue-eyed Germans from the 
Rhine, and sallow-faced, volatile Gauls from Aca- 
dia, formed committees to put down crime, or banded 
together to brand their herds in the spring and fall. 
Still the morals of the Texans, as a people, never 
stood very high. The wild, free life of the ranger, 
and the sparsely -settled territory through which he 
roamed, made him the judge of the offense as well as 
the executioner of the penalty. He would grasp as 
that of a brother the hand red with the blood of a 
companion stabbed in some drunken fray, while he 
would hang without remorse the wretch who stole 
a horse as a being too degraded to live, though the 
prairies teemed with mustangs valued at the trouble 
of catching. 

There were exceptions to this rule to be found in 
many settlements throughout the State — places where 
right was adhered to for the sake of right ; where 
white-spired churches could be seen peeping from 
green groves, and where, on Sabbath days, songs of 
praise could be heard ascending to Him who had 
created this beautiful land. 

Such a settlement was Gonzelletta, on the San Ber- 
nard River, a few hours’ ride from the point where it 
empties into the Gulf of Mexico. At one time Gon- 
zelletta was a flourishing village, with a mixed Span- 


8 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


ish and American population, but, after the battle of 
San Jacinto, the Mexicans burned the place in their 
retreat, and, although it was never rebuilt, the set- 
tlement on the edge of the prairie still retains the 
name of the town. To those accustomed to a roll- 
ing country this place would at first appear monoto- 
nous, but the clear skies, the bracing air, the sweep- 
ing plains, and the dark, rich verdure soon compen- 
sate for hill, cliff, and cataract in the more sterile 
north. Gonzelletta, with its half score rich planta- 
tions, its handsome dwellings, embowered in groves 
if magnolia, and surrounded by masses of tropical 
flowers, and the village-like clusters of negro cabins 
under the edge of the woods, formed a picture of 
beauty and peace that never wearied the eye. 

At the date of our narrative — February, 1861 — the 
two principal plantations in the place were owned by 
Robert Warren, senior, and Mrs. Boardman, a widow 
lady who had settled in Gonzelletta with her husband 
in ’52. Mr. Boardman w r as an invalid, and left Ten- 
nessee for Texas by the advice of his physicians, but 
death sought out his mark as quickly as if it had not 
been moved, and Mr. Boardman died within two 
years. He left his large estate to his widow and an 
only child, Amy, who, at the time named as the 
commencement of our story, was in her eighteenth 
year. 

As this is not a novel, the writer cannot in truth 
draw a picture of improbable angel beauty, for Amy 
was simply a modest-looking, brown-haired girl, with 
nothing in her appearance to attract a second glance 
from a casual observer. She was educated at home 
by a New England lady w r ho had accompanied the 


THE LONE STAR STATE. 


9 


family from Tennessee. This lady subsequei tly mar 
ried a lawyer from Brazoria, named Gasting. Though 
refined, Amy was not accomplished, as the world calls 
it. She could draw and play a little, and when her 
heart was full of the beauty around her, she could 
pour out her feelings in songs for which words were 
never written and music never set. 

It was the evening before the secession of Texas 
from the Union, and in the glory of a tropical sky 
the red sun was sinking behind the woods, canopied 
by masses of golden and opal clouds that flooded 
the landscape with varied colors, like the light 
streaming down from the stained windows of some 
mighty cathedral. The soft, lulling breeze from the 
gulf went sighing through the magnolias, scattering 
the rich incense around,, and the plantation bells 
broke the stillness as they called the negroes from 
their labor in the fields. Amy, with her mother, a 
fine, matronly-looking lady of forty-five years, was 
sitting on the wide gallery so peculiar to southern 
houses. Both mother and daughter looked pale and 
depressed, and at times the eyes of the girl were 
turned eagerly toward the long, straight road across 
the prairie. 

“Mother,” said Amy, breaking the long silence, 
“ I feel sick at heart, and a dread that I cannot give 
cause for makes me shiver.” 

“I feel as do you, my child,” said Mrs. Boardman, 
moving her chair close to that of her daughter and 
taking one of the small white hands in hers ; “ I feel 
as you do, but I can assign no reason for it. To-mor- 
row the vote of Texas will be cast for secession, and 
only God knows what will follow. Now, more than 


10 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


ever, do I miss your father, for I know how he would 
vote were he living/’ 

“Why, mother, I cannot see the necessity for 
breaking up the country. I am sure the Yankees 
have not injured us ; indeed, I quite like the northern 
people whom we met in our travels. Why, then, 
should they desire to break up the country, of which 
/'since my childhood I have been so proud, and every- 
body else should be ?” 

“I do not know, Amy/’ was the reply. “The 
people are surely crazed, for every man, woman, and 
child whom I know are crying for secession, and 
your old teacher from New England, Mrs. Gasting, is 
louder in her denunciations of the Yankees than any 
person I am acquainted with.” 

The usually calm face of the girl glowed as she 
said, “ Mother, all will not vote for secession ; I 
would not if I were a man. There is one who is 
braver and stronger and cooler than are the men in 
Brazoria, and to-morrow Robert will teach them to 
do right.” 

“Men will not be guided by ideas of right, my child. 
The bowie-knife and revolver will guide the ballot, 
and Robert would be reckless, in the face of the 
Knights of the Golden Circle, to oppose them. Bet- 
ter he should stay away, for I do not think to-mor- 
row will see the end. Ilis single vote would avail 
nothing, and his death would cause a world of harm.” 

“ Death ! Would they kill him, mother, for being 
a man ? Oh, I will not let him go ; I cannot lose 
him. But if I were a man I would vote, in spite of 
Wharton and every man on the Brazos !” 

“I feel as you do, my daughter,” said Mrs. Board' 


THE LONE STAR STATE. 


11 


man, sitting straight in her chair and clasping her 
hands before her. “ But if there be any truth in the 
papers and letters I receive from the North, the bay- 
onets of the Union will be used against the ballots of 
secession. Let Robert reserve himself for that.” 

She had scarcely concluded her sentence when two 
mounted men came galloping up the avenue of live 
oaks leading to the house. They rode small, wiry 
mustangs, accoutered in the regular Mexican style, 
and sat their horses with that easy grace which can 
only be acquired by a life in the saddle. Riding 
close to the house, both men dismounted, and they 
were certainly fine specimens of their respective 
races s The one was a pure Caucasian, about twenty- 
five years of age, standing nearly six feet in height, 
and with that ease of carriage which denotes great 
strength and powers of endurance. His hair was 
straight and black, his bronzed face strong and ex- 
pressive rather than handsome, while his warm, grey 
eyes seemed full of that strange light which a shade 
would turn to dancing smiles or burning anger. The 
other was a negro, who, on dismounting, took the 
bridle from his master, and as he stood with a hand 
on the reins of both horses he could pass for a statue 
of Hercules cut in ebony. He w T as over thirty, and 
taller than his master ; but being heavier, the dif- 
ference would seem at first the other way. His skin 
w T as jet black, and his features full, yet well-pro- 
portioned. As he took off his hat to sahite the la- 
dies, his thick, woolly hair could be seen curling 
around a head that would prove a study to the phren- 
ologist, for, while the forehead was broad and promi- 
nent, the rest of the head looked like a black globe. 


ft 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


the young white man bounded up the steps he 
was met by Mrs. Boardman and her daughter with 
a warmth that showed more than ordinary interest. 
Titrowing off his broad-brimmed sombrero, he ar- 
rsrged seats for the ladies, and, taking one for him- 
self. an expression of pain came into his face, as, 
after the customary greeting, he said : 

“I have been all along the bottom — at Bell’s, 
Townsend’s, Underwood’s, and at a score of other 
places — and I find but few men who are not going to 
vote for secession to-morrow. The majority, I think, 
are opposed to it, but the fear of Wharton and his 
clique deters them.” 

“Is it true, Robert,” askod Amy, 44 that they are 
going to kill those who do not vote for secession to- 
morrow?” 

“I do not know; there will certainly be trouble. 
I saw a card on the court-house in Brazoria, stating 
that those who vote for Yankee rule must do it in the 
face of southern steel. I suppose by 4 Yankee rule’ 
is meant in favor of the Union.” 

4 4 Then all will vote for secession,” said Amy. 4 4 Oh ! 
if I were a man !” 

“If you were, Amy,” was his reply, “what could 
your single arm do? You could resist by a vote, and, 
God giving me strength, I intend to do that.” 

“Be careful, Robert,” said Mrs. Boardman, gaz- 
ing at the young man with a look of pride. “Re- 
member, more will be required of you, or I am 
mistaken, than mere voting.” 

44 1 know it, Mrs. Boardman ; and if Texas leaves 
the Union, I am determined to leave for the first 
rendezvous of Union men, and, if necessary, fight, 


THE LONE STAR STATE. 


13 


for I am convinced war will follow this mad course 
of the slave States.” 

“Did you see Henderson Townsend to-day?” asked 
Amy. Being answered in the negative, she contin- 
ued : “He was here and poured out a torrent of angry 
words against the Yankees. I reminded him that 
both he and his father were born and lived in Con- 
necticut till a few years since. He said that did no^ 
make him an abolitionist, and then started off mut- 
tering vengeance against those who vote for Union 
to-morrow.” 

Robert Warren’s face was clouded for an instant as 
he said, “Poor fool, he is true to his instinct^.” Then, 
changing his tone, he continued : “It is very strange, 
but there is not one person of northern birth in this 
NoC fi *)n who is a slave-owner that is not going to vote 
icr secession to-morrow.” 

“ But there is one southern man,” said Amy, with 
flashing eyes,“ and he is a South Carolinian by birth, 
who hates their actions, and who will oppose them ! 
Oh, Robert, I do, I do feel proud of you !” 

When strong emotions move the heart, or great 
dangers surround us, cold etiquette is laid aside, 
and we stand face to face, with no feelings disguised. 
No one could look on the animated face of the young 
girl, as her eyes were turned on Robert Warren, with- 
out feeling that a deep, pure love for the young pa- 
triot stirred her heart. But there is a love higher 
than that which connects the sexes ; a love which 
forgets all personal considerations when principles are 
involved ; a love which causes the maiden to part 
with the adored without a pang of regret ; a love 
which impels the mother to kiss her first-born adi^u 


14 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


and send him into the ranks of death ; a love which 
exchanges wealth and ease and luxury for poverty, 
hardships, and toil ; a love which elevates man to the 
dignity of the angels, for it mocks at danger and 
smiles at death. It is the soul-absorbing love of our 
fatherland and our country’s flag, and such in all its 
intensity was the feeling that stirred the heart of Amy 
Boardman. 

After a few more words, Robert Warren rose to go, 
promising to return on the following evening and re- 
port affairs at Brazoria. Then, with tender entreat- 
ies from Amy, and kind messages to his family from 
Mrs. Boardman, he and his servant sprang on their 
horses and were soon galloping over the small arm 
of prairie which separated Mrs. Boardman’s from his 
father’s plantation. 

Archy, for such was the black man’s name, broke 
silence as he slackened the pace of his horse. 

“Mauss Robut, is yeh gwine to de vil’ge to-mor- 
row, shuah?” 

“Why do you ask, Archy?” 

“ Coz, if yeh is, sah, I’d like to go, mighty.” 

“ But why to-morrow any more than any other day ?” 

“Wall, Mauss Robut, I dunno. ’Pears tings ain’t 
agoin’ right, nohow. Hen Townsend, he’s agoin’ to be 
dar, an’ he don’t like yeh mufch, I reckon, coz of Miss 
Amy, an’ he tole Watts, his boy, he’d make yeh 
squirm yet. An’ den, Mauss Robut, dare’s Wharton, 
him and Hen goes togedder, an’ dey’s agoin’ to shoot 
all wat don’t go wid dem.” 

Having said this, Archy looked earnestly into his 
master’s face, as if to see the effect of his statements 

“But, supposing all this to be true, and they were 


THE LONE STAR STATE. 


15 


going to shoot me, Archy, what good could you do?” 

The eyes of the black man widened till the whites 
were visible around them, and, straightening himself 
up in the stirrups, he said : 

“Mauss Robut, yeh knows I ain’t skeery ; yeh 
knows I kin shoot, an’ den, Mauss Robut, if dey kills 
yeh, I don’t want to lib nohow. Dey kin shoot me 
fust. Do let me go, mauss,” and the last words were 
uttered in the most appealing tones. 

“I will see about it in the morning, Archy,” said 
his master as he threw him the bridle rein and strode 
hastily into the house, which by this time they had 
reached. 


CHAPTER II. 


AT THE POLLS. 

Brazoria is very pleasantly situated on the Bra- 
zos River, and had in 1861 about one thousand inhab- 
itants. Around it is the largest sugar and cotton 
portion of the State, and consequently it had the 
largest slave population. 

Early on the morning of February 23, 1861, scores 
of stalwart horsemen, armed to the teeth, could be 
seen moving in on the different roads, and dismount- 
ing to fasten their horses to the racks around the 
white frame court-house, in the center of the town. 
Each rider carried a heavy whip or “quirt,” in addi- 
tion to his ponderous, jingling spurs. About the 
principal tavern the men crowded, where liquor was 
provided in abundance by some of the wealthy men 
of the town. It was noticeable to see the groups 
of anxious-looking faces, the majority in the prime 
of life, and it was rare to see one whose form did not 
denote great strength and activity. The dress was 
more uniform than is ever seen outside of regularly- 
dressed organizations. Long boots with the pants 
inside, belts with pistols and knife protruding beyond 
the short-cut jackets, shirts dpen at the neck, with 


AT THE POLLS. 


17 


loose sailor ties, and stifTMexican sombreros, or broad- 
brimmed, slouched felt hats, turned up with a defiant 
air in front, was the usual costume. With few excep- 
tions, their faces were heavily bearded, and the hair 
worn in long masses down to the shoulders. There 
was but little intelligence in the group of animal faces. 
They were indicative of strong machines, that would 
move with effect if the power were applied, and fur- 
nished. They could follow, not lead, and to such 
men the words of those they followed were oracular. 

As each emerged from the room, rough jokes and 
loud laughter greeted him, or the oft-repeated query, 
“Say, what’ll yeh take fer yer hoss? Pm goin’ to 
raise a cavalry company to fight the d — d abolition- 
ists ?” 

Often the new-comer would be greeted with the 
question, Say, how are you going to vote to-day?” 
and invariably the reply came back and was greeted 
with wild cheers, “For secession,” or “Against the 
infernal Yankees!” 

One of these last arrivals was a young man who 
might pass for any age between twenty-five and fifty. 
He was long, and cadaverous-looking, with thin, 
reddish beard and watery blue eyes. Fastening his 
horse, he entered the bar-room, and, sitting on the 
counter so as to face the crowd, he appeared to slide 
into himself like a telescope, the bent, thick body 
presenting a queer contrast to the long, thin legs. 
Turning to the hard-worked bar-tender, he asked for a 
glass of whisky, which, being provided, he held 
out at arm’s length, and in a cracked and somewhat 
nasal tone said : 


2 * 


18 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“Fels, I’ve a toast to propose, and cuss him what 
don’t drink it !” 

“Let’s have it, Hen!” “Hurrah!” “Go in, ole 
boy ! ” were the greetings that met his announcement. 

“Here’s success to secession, an’ a bullet for every 
feller that casts a ballot agin’ it.” 

A loud cheer went up from the crowd, and a 
swarthy giant, who drank the toast in a tumbler of 
raw whisky, wiped his lips with his coat-sleeve, and # 
striking the man addressed as “ Hen ” on the shoulder 
with his open hand, he shouted out, “I’d like ter see 
the chap what objects to them ’ere sentiments.” 

“Well, then,” said Henderson Townsend, who by 
this time had stepped to the door, “ if yeh look down 
the street ye’ll see one. There comes Bob Warren, 
and I’ll bet a thousand dollars to a quirt that he 
votes agin’ us. Why, he’s gone plumb over to the 
abolitionists.” 

A hoarse din of threats followed this announcement, 
but it gradually sank into a murmur as the object of 
Townsend’s remark drew near, and into silence as 
he dismounted before the tavern and fastened his 
horse to the commodious rack. 

“Come in an’ drink, Warren,” said Townsend, 
“come in’ an drink; Wharton’s stood a big treat 
to-day.” 

“ I thank you, sir,” said Warren, “ but I do not wish 
to drink.” 

“ What, not drink success to our cause?” 

“ I do not know you or your cause, sir,” said Warren 
as he passed into the building. Going up stairs, he 
knocked at a door with a peculiar rap, and was 
admitted into a room where five men were sitting 


AT THE POLLS. 


19 


around a small table. Their faces had a troubled 
look, but there was an intelligence and determination 
stamped on each, in striking contrast with the crowd 
of fierce faces outside. 

“ Mr. Williams, I am glad to see you and the rest 
of our friends here,” said Robert Warren, as he took 
a chair. “ If I mistake not, there is dangerous duty 
before us to-day.” 

“ True, Mr. Warren,” said the gentleman addressed 
as Williams, “but we must undertake it like men. 
Wharton’s party, I understand, intend surrounding 
the polls, and they swear to shoot every man voting 
against secession. We cannot resist them by force, 
but by a calm and determined demand for the right 
of voting as we choose, I think we can succeed. 
This threat will deter many from voting with us who 
I am certain are opposed to disunion. Let us hope 
that seeing our course they may take courage and 
rally around us.” 

Agreeing to return to the room again before voting, 
the little party descended and mingled with the crowd* 

About nine o’clock a tall, middle-aged man, with 
light hair, and full, reddish beard, rode up to the 
tavern, accompanied by a servant. He was greeted 
with loud cheers, which he acknowledged by remov- 
ing his hat and bowing. There could be seen the 
broad, white forehead, and deep blue eyes, which, in 
connection with his straight nose and thin, firm lips> 
bespoke the man of power. On dismounting he was 
surrounded by the crowd, each anxious to grasp his 
hand, and he blended with them without being one 
of them. His name will live as that of an able, 
brave, misguided man, John Wharton, leader of the 


20 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Texas Rangers in the war against his country. 

After conversing with, a group of the more intelli- 
gent men for some time, it was decided before 
opening the polls to hold a meeting in the court- 
house, over which the Stars and Stripes were then 
floating. This intention was announced, and the 
building was soon packed to its utmost capacity, and 
scores of faces peered in through the windows and 
doors. Wharton, amid great applause, was conducted 
to the judge’s chair, before which as a lawyer he had 
often pleaded. After the formality of electing proper 
officers to conduct the meeting, 44 Colonel” Wharton 
was introduced, and advanced to the desk with 
apparent embarrassment. 

44 Fellow Texans,” he began, 44 we have assembled 
in Brazoria to-day to decide, so far as we are con- 
cerned, one of the most important questions ever sub- 
mitted to any people — that of being an independent 
South, or a servile collection, of States, ’neath the 
crushing heel of a despot. When we threw off the 
yoke of Mexico we were glad and proud, after a short 
period of national independence, to link our fate with 
what was then the great United States — great no lon- 
ger in the esteem of free men. Once this land was 
governed by true patriots, who had the interest of 
the whole country at heart ; now the power is wrest- 
ed from their keeping, and in their places stand not 
our rulers, but tyrants — men who would rob us of our 
property, free our slaves, and place them on an equal- 
ity with us, with you, my countrymen ! Yes, and urge 
this evil on till the negroes who now work in our fields 
become aspirants for the hands of our sisters and 
our daughters ! Are you willing that this thing 


AT THE POLLS. 


21 


should be? Will you lie passive while the chains 
are being forged to enslave you? And will you still 
cling close like cowards to what is not the govern- 
ment of your choice?” 

“No! no !” “Never! never?” rang through the 
building, and faces began to flush, while the eyes of 
the excited mob glared like those of wild beasts. 

“I rejoice to hear you say 4 No V ” he continued, 
“but where can we find a remedy for this evil which 
threatens us? It is not to be purchased from our 
abolition rulers. We cannot become exiles and seek 
freedom in other lands. We hold the power in our 
own hands, and w r oe be to us if we use it not. By 
this I do not mean that we are to go out to battle, 
for if Texas acts as she should to-day, there will be 
no foe to battle with. Already five of our sister States 
have gone out, and from their happy eminence beckon 
us to follow. 

“Are you ready, are you willing to go?” “We 
are, we are!” came in thundering response. “Then 
if you are, let your votes corroborate your words, and 
should the cowardly negro-stealers of the North retard 
our efforts in going out, or our peace in remaining out 
of such a Union, so help me God, I will be one 
of a hundred thousand Texan rangers to spring to 
the rescue of the ‘Lone Star’ State! With fire and 
sword we will sweep down on the homes of the fanat- 
ical Puritans and wring from their black hearts retri- 
bution for our many wrongs and indignities. But I 
fear no war. Mark my words, we will depart in peace. 
Every slave State will follow us, and we will build us 
up a model nation, where the white and the black man 
will be protected, and each occupy the position God 


22 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


intended him for. A nation that can and will carry 
out the principles for which our forefathers bled, a 
nation that all can love, and whose emblem I now 
show you — ” 

Saying this, he unfurled a rich flag with three par- 
allel bars, red, white and red, and on the blue square 
of the upper left, the ‘ ‘ lone star ’ ’ of Texas. Cheer 
after cheer greeted this emblem of a shadowy nation- 
ality. 

“If, ” said Wharton, raising his voice to its high- 
est pitch, “ this flag is your choice, haul down from 
above your head, where now it floats, the flaunting 
banner of infamy, and give the banner of liberty 
and a united South to the winds of Texas !” 

The climax was reached. Through the open win- 
dows and doors the maddened mob pounced out, and 
two of the most active were quickly on the roof pulling 
down the flag. As soon as it reached their grasp it 
was torn from the halliards and thrown to the crowd 
beneath. While the “stars and bars” were being 
hoisted, the Stars and Stripes were torn to shreds with 
drunken rage and trampled in the dust. 

A group of anxious-looking men, at a distance’ 
watched this scene. Not a word was spoken, nor did 
any of the number stir, till “Colonel” Wharton 
shouted out, “To the polls !” and the crowd surged- 
toward the tavern. After all had gone, EobertWar 
ren advanced, and, gatheringthe tattered remnants of 
the flag, hurriedly placed them in his breast, and 
then with his friends returned to the room in the 
tavern, which they had left to attend the meeting. 
After closing the door, Mr. Williams, with a pale face 
and in smothered accents, began : 


AT THE POLLS. 


23 


“Friends, we should have expected this. The mob 
is perfectly frantic. We are here and cannot escape 
voting, though it is useless. Let us wait till Whar- 
ton’s party is scattered, then go forward and do our 
duty.” 

He ceased, and silence, broken only by the heavy 
breathing of the men, reigned in the apartment. 

After some minutes, Robert Warren pulled out the 
tattered colors, and, gazing on them with a burning 
look, said : 

“ Had I been told yesterday that I would standby 
and see this flag hauled doAvn and trampled in the 
dust, I would have pronounced the assertion false. 
Yet to-day I saw it, and did not resist. Here is one 
star untorn — let it be to us the emblem of hope. Rise, 
every man here, few though we be, and lny his hands 
on these shreds ! ” All did as he desired. “Now 
swear with me,” he continued, “that come what may, 
though property be sacrificed and homes surrendered, 
we will be faithful till death to this, flag, nor rest till 
it returns again to the Brazos.” 

The hands were raised and each reponded, “I 
swear.” 

In heaven that oath was registered with the sons 
of the martyrs and approved by Him who presides 
over the destinies of nations. 

About five o’clock in the afternoon the voting, 
which had all gone one way, was nearly finished, and 
Robert Warren, followed by his party, advanced to 
the polls. He was met by Townsend, who handed 
him a ballot, and he replied by tearing it up, saying, 
“I have one of my own.” 

“Let me see it,” asked Townsend in a rude voice. 


24 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Robert Warren did so, when Townsend glanced at it, 
then tearing it in pieces, with a savage oath shouted 
out: “Warren an’ his party is goin’ to vote agin 
us ! Who’ll stan’ by an’ see it done?” 

The intoxicated by-standers, with angry menaces, 
drew near, and more than one knife was unsheathed. 
Warren coolly looked over the crowd, and in a clear, 
strong voice said : 

“The man who says I am going to vote against my 
country, or in favor of abolition, lies. But before I can 
vote for secession I want first to see where we have been 
wronged. I have negroes, as many as any of you ; I 
am a southern man by birth and interests ; but I owe 
allegiance to the whole country and not a part, and 
for that whole country I am going to vote. If you 
prevent me, why, then, have the formality of voting ?” 

Warren moved toward the polls, but Townsend 
stepped before him, and with an oath said : 

“Not so fast sir, yeh votes here when yeh votes 
right — not till then !” 

“Stand aside, Townsend!” commanded Warren, 
his grey eyes turning black with anger ; “I wish no 
quarrel, but am determined.” Turning to the crowd 
he hurriedly addressed them : “ I appeal to every man 
here — for you all know me — is there a stain on my 
good name ? Bid you ever know me to do aught an 
honest man would blush for? Can you say as much for 
this wretch, who pushes himself forward as the repre- 
sentative of better men? You know I am honest in 
my actions. Now, Townsend, stand aside !” 

Warren stepped forward, but a violent push sent 
him staggering back among the crowd. 

He recovered in an instant, and with a spring like 


AT THE POLLS. 


25 


a tiger-cat, and a blow that sounded like the discharge 
of a pistol, Townsend was thrown senseless to the 
ground, and Warren, with his friends, stepped forward 
to deposit their ballots, which, as throughout the 
State and throughout the South, were not counted, 
for they were against secession. After voting, the 
Union men retraced their steps through the crowd in 
the direction of their horses, but found to their sur- 
prise the animals were gone, and could not be found. 

After a fruitless search, Warren inquired from the 
bystanders if they had seen the horses moved, but he 
received in reply only black looks and muttered 
threats that “ He and his damned pack would soon 
learn all about it.” 


CHAPTER III. 


WAYLAID. 

After a vain attempt to find their horses, the little 
body of Union men determined to walk home — first, 
however, agreeing to meet at the plantation of Mr. 
Warren on the following morning. 

Robert had about five miles to walk, but the greater 
part of the road lay through the densely wooded bot- 
tom-land between Brazoria and G-onzelletta. South- 
ern men before the war were unaccustomed to trav- 
eling on foot, particularly the Texans, who often rode 
over distances where it would be less of a physical 
exertion to walk than to saddle a horse. As Robert 
Warren hurried westward along this forest road, he 
wondered at the strange circumstance of all their 
horses being taken, and felt there was more in it than 
the spiteful trick of a few drunken rowdies. He re- 
gretted that he had not invited his friends home with 
him, where they could procure a remount, as they 
had all further to walk than himself, though not in 
the same direction. Looking carefully about as he 
hastened on, and peering cautiously into the jungle, 
he had passed over one-half the distance between 
Brazoria and his home, when, turning a sharp bend 


WAYLAID. 


27 


in the road, he heard the crack of a rifle and at the 
same instant felt a burning sensation along the top of 
his head, and a feeling of blind giddiness overcame 
him. He staggered and fell to the ground, and be- 
fore he could recover, three men rushed from the 
woods and sprang upon him. A blow was aimed at 
his head, but through the blood that streamed over 
his face he saw it descending, and, summoning all 
his strength, he leaped to his feet to see before him 
Henderson Townsend, with a look of fiendish hate on 
his brutal face. 

“ Kill the infernal abolitionist !” shouted Town- 
send, striking with a long knife at the wounded man . 
All three rushed again upon Warren, and, before he 
could draw his pistol, he was a second time brought 
to the ground, and one of the assassins, with a raised 
knife, sprang upon him. He could see the cold gleam 
above him, as the murderer’s arm was extended to 
give fatal force to the blow, and Warren closed his 
eyes. It was but an instant, when a yell, that thrilled 
the prostrate man into life, arrested the descending 
arm, and the next moment the blood of the would- 
be murderer was dashed, by a powerful blow from 
behind, over the intended victim. Another blow, 
quick as lightning, and a second man fell. Town- 
send turned on the new-comer, but his arm became 
palsied and his knees shook as he saw before him the 
towering form of Arcliy. The wide nostrils were 
dilated, the white teeth gleamed through the open 
lips, and a look of heroic manhood transformed the 
negro into the master of the cowering white man. 

Before Bobert Warren could rise, the strong black 
hand was clutched around the throat of Townsend, 


28 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


and, blackening in the face, the white man wilted and 
fell ; but the grasp was not relaxed. A few seconds 
and life would have been extinct, had not Eobert 
Warren rose and released the hold of his servant. 

‘ * Stop, Archy ! God bless you, my brave boy ! you 
have saved me ; you have done enough !” 

“Bress de Lor’, Mauss Bobut, yell’s ’live!” said 
Archy, clasping in his strong arms the form of his 
master. Then he fairly sobbed, “ Ye h’s bleedin’, oh, 
poor Mauss Eobut ! But let me Tone, dey’il kill me 
for dis, an’ I’ 11 have something to hang for.” Saying 
this, he moved toward Townsend, but his master 
stopped him by interposing between him and the 
trembling wretch. 

“Well, you cringing hound,” said Warren, address- 
ing Townsend, “ you did not succeed in your murder- 
ous undertaking, thanks to this brave boy 1 I now 
know who stole our horses, and what they were stolen 
for.” 

“Wall,” whined Townsend, “we hid ’em. Whar- 
ton told us to. But you’ll pay for this ; you’ll swing 
for a killin’ of these fellers,” and he pointed to the 
bleeding forms before him. 

“You know you lie, when you say Wharton di- 
rected this — with all his faults, he is brave and 
honorable. But, as you threaten me, I think it 
prudent to complete this job.” So saying, Eobert 
Warren cocked his pistol and placed it against Town- 
send’s head. The craven fell on his knees, and, in a 
whining supplication, called, “Oh, don’t! don’t, Mr. 
Warren ! It was all a drunken spree, and we didn’t 
mean to do any harm.” 

“I was only trying your mettle, Townsend,” said 


WAYLAID. 


29 


Warren, as he replaced his pistol. “ Now I will leave 
you to care for your friends ; and if we ever meet 
again with weapons drawn, your lies and supplications 
will not save you.” 

Leaving Townsend, with one of his companions 
dead and the other severely wounded, Eobert Warren 
and his servant hurried along the forest road, now 
rapidly growing indistinct. The sun had set, and 
dense masses of black clouds came sweeping up from 
the Gulf, deepening the shadows on the road. When 
they emerged from the woods, on the edge of the 
prairie stretching to Gonzelletta, they found thousands 
of cattle and deer running to the bottom for shelter 
from the storm, which instinct told them would soon 
burst over the plain. 

Eobert released his hold of the black man’s arm, 
and stood with uncovered head, while the cooling 
wind came, grateful to burning forehead and throbbing 
temples. Archy saw the dejected look of his master, 
and asked, anxiously : 

“Is yeh sick, Mauss Eobut? Coz, iv yeh is, I’ll go 
ahead to de ranche an’ fotch yeh a hoss ; or, Mauss 
Eobut, I’ll tote yeh home like a chile.” As Archy 
spoke the last words, he held out his strong arms, as 
if to lift his young master, 

“No, Archy, I feel strong enough, but I am troubled. 
This affair with Townsend will get wind before two 
hours, and the whole settlement will be armed against 
us, and should they catch either of us, I am afraid, 
Archy, we would not bring a big price next day, ex- 
cept for the dissecting table.” Eobert Warren tried 
to smile at his own words. 

“ I knows dat, Mauss Eobut,” said Archy ; “ I knows 


30 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


dey’d liang us, shuah, but Pse ready. Pd a wanted 
to die long ’go iv Pd any odder mausser, praise de 
Lor’ ; but ole mauss an’ you ain’ t like white folks ; 
yeh’s like angels. Bis mornin’ I couldn’t stay at de 
house, fur I know’d dey’d be trouble in de town. So 
I stoled off, an’ all day I looked fur yeh, as I hid by 
de road in de chaparral , [thicket.] An’ when I seed 
you cornin’ I wuz mighty glad, an’ kep’ dark in de 
woods. Oh, Mauss Robut, I tanks de good Lor’ I’se 
been de way to save yeh.” 

“Yes, I must acknowledge you understood matters 
yesterday better than I did, Archy, though it looks 
as if you had only postponed my death a few hours.” 

During the conversation the men resumed their 
journey, and as they neared Mr. Warren’s plantation 
an idea of some weight seemed to strike Archy, for 
he took his master’s arm, that rested on his, in both 
his hands, and said : “I kin fix it, Mauss Robut, I 
kin fix it ; an’ iv I dies, won’t yeh take good care of 
Susy and de pickaninnies ?” 

The deep breast of the black man heaved as he 
looked on the dejected form of his master, and in a 
tone soft and gentle as a woman’s, he continued : 

“Don’t trouble, Mauss Robut. Eberyting ’ll come 
right bimeby. Nobody ’ll b’lieve Hen Townsend, an’ 
den Pll say ’twasn’t you ; Pll say I did it, an’ I won’t 
lie, nudder.” 

“Stop Archy! Don’t talk in that way. The men 
who injure you for what you have done must do it 
after I am helpless. I have made up my mind, 
Archy. We must not remain here, not even to-night. 
We must start north for Kentucky, and when there, 
Archy, I’ll make you a freeman. You can be your 
own master.” 


WAYLAID. 


SI 


“Mains Eobut, I ain’t done nothin’ dat you want 
me to lebe yeh? I don’t want no mausser but you !” 

“Well, Archy, I don’t mean that by being free you 
must leave me ; you can be with me as you are now. 
I think, Archy, if I get away safely, that I will be a 
soldier, and fight till we bring the old flag back to 
the Brazos.” 

Poor Archy, he had none of his master’s patriotic 
ardor. Why should he? All flags were alike to him. 

Yet when his master had ceased speaking, tears 
were streaming down the honest black face. They 
were not forced by sorrow or pain, but rose from the 
great warm heart, the expression of a love that few 
but the angels feel. 

By the time they had reached Mr. Warren’s house 
the night was pitchy black. The wind had calmed 
down, and an ominous stillness reigned over forest 
and plain. It lasted but a few minutes — then the 
pent-up storm burst over the land with a fury unknown 
to colder latitudes. Eapid flashes of lightning for 
a moment illuminated the broad, lifeless prairie, and 
then, as if all the parks of heaven’s artillery were 
opened, the deep thunder shook the earth. A few 
seconds of a rushing sound, and in torrents the rain 
poured to the earth. The harmony of the elements, 
like the laws of the nation, seemed broken. It looked 
as if the land were draped in mourning for the coun- 
try’s death. 

It was on such a night the Egyptians sank to peaceful 
rest, strong, prosperous, and happy — the youth to 
dream of coming glory, the old man to think of easy 
age, the maiden to sigh in her very happiness, the 
babe to slumber in childish innocence. But for one 


32 


WARDEN OF TEXAS. 


instant in the dark night “ a shadowy flash was seen. 
The death angel breathed on the first-born slumbering 
in life ; then the red lips paled, the breast heaved 
once, and the eyelids tightened for the sleep of death. 

So, deluded sunny South, it was with thee. Thy 
future shone bright and prosperous, while visions of 
power and glory flushed thy youths, and gave vigor to 
thy old men. Thy maidens twined chaplets for their 
warrior lovers, and poets sang the praises of thy 
dawning greatness. But the night went by, and the 
morning brought wailing for thy first-born. Thy 
strong men fill the grave and thy daughters are clad 
in sable garb. In the Red Sea thy armies have 
perished, and from the opposite bank hosannas re- 
sound from the free — made so by thy acts — yet sing- 
ing no glad song in thy praise. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE PARLOR AND THE CABIN. 

On opening the door, Eobert Warren was met by 
his only sister, Mary, a young lady of twenty, who 
screamed on seeing the blood-covered features and 
torn clothing of her brother. He quieted her, beg- 
ging her not to mention it to his father and mother, 
and assuring her that a wash would set him all right. 
He went directly to his room, and, after bathing, 
found that he had a painful, but by no means danger- 
ous, scalp wound on the right side of his head. 
Having changed his clothing, he took down from a 
peg in his room a pair of handsome Mexican saddle- 
bags, and filled them with such articles as he would 
need on his contemplated journey. Unlocking a 
drawer in his dressing-stand, he took from it an ivory- 
cased miniature, which he opened, and, removing the 
curl of brown hair twined above the picture, his face 
softened as he gazed for a few moments on the por- 
trait of Amy Boardman. Then he replaced the curl 
and deposited the case in his breast pocket. Picking 
up the torn, blood-stained coat which he had taken 
off, he took from one of the pockets the roll of red, 
white, and blue rags that had once been the flag of 


34 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


the stars, and as he carefully placed them in the 
pocket with the picture his lips grew firmer and an 
expression of age came over his face. He next took 
down from the mantel-piece, over which it hung, a 
short, silver-mounted rifle, and fastened about his 
waist a belt containing two pistols, cap and cartridge- 
boxes, besides a scabbard, from which protruded the 
silver handle of a Mexican hunting-knife. Having 
prepared everything so as to be ready to start in a 
moment, Robert Warren descended to the supper 
room, where his father, mother, and sister were 
awaiting him. 

Mrs. Warren was very pale, and evidently agitated 
as she heard her son’s steps, for she met him at the 
door and was clasped in his strong arms. 

“My boy ! my darling boy !” she exclaimed, “they 
tried to kill you, I know they tried to kill you, my 
brave, brave boy !” 

“ Sit down, mother,” he said, kissing her and gently 
placing her in a chair, “I will tell you all about it 
directly.” Then he went over to the great chair in 
which his invalid father was sitting, and he did what 
few men of his years do now-a-days, he kissed the 
grey-bearded face of his father, turned up to his with 
a look of pride and tenderness. Then, placing his 
arm about his sister, in a cheerful tone he briefly 
related to his anxious little audience the incidents of 
the day. 

After supper he showed them the remnants of the 
flag, remarking to his agitated father, “Never mind, 
father, I will sew all these tatters on the new flag that 
you and I will hoist in Brazoria some day.” 

Mr. *V>*xen, though scarcely able to move, rose to 


THE PARLOR AND THE CABIN. 


35 


his feet, and walking nervously across the room came 
back and took a seat beside his son. 

4 ‘Robert,” he began, “you must leave here, and 
that this very night ; for, even while I speak, Town- 
send may be setting the blood-hounds on your track. 
You must go to Kentucky. I am sure that good old 
State will be true to the Union. Your Uncle Louis 
will be a father to you. If there should be a war, 
Robert — and it looks like it — I need not advise your 
course. You will do what I would were I young 
again, that is, join the first military organization you 
meet on the right side.” 

4 4 1 am glad to hear you talk so, father, for while 
coming home I formed a plan like that you have 
marked out. And I feel,” he continued, placing his 
hand fondly on his father’s, 44 that it will not be many 
months before you see me back again.” 

4 4 It may be long months, or even years, my boy, 
for the South is strong and armed ; but there is a 
God, and right will not be overcome.” 

44 Of that I am certain, father, and were I assured 
of the welfare of the family, my greatest care would 
be removed.” 

“You need not fret about us, my son. I am old 
and weak, to be sure, but more exercise may make 
me strong again. I can manage the plantation, and 
our new overseer appears to be a first-rate man. The 
hands are faithful ; you know yourself we never 
had one take to the bottom. And then the prospect for 
plentiful crops is good ; so that I will get on finely. You 
must take Archy along with you, and the two English 
horses, and let The boy have a rifle, for if a necessity 
arises, he can use it as well as any man on the prairie.” 


36 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 





4 ‘ I shall do so, father ; hut I fear that when I am 
gone Wharton’s party may be enraged at my flight, 
and wreak their spite on you.” 

“Do not be alarmed about that, Robert. Desper- 
ate and unprincipled as I know many of them to be, 
I am sure they would not harm me. They have al 
ways treated me with respect. You know Tve all voted 
for that noble man, Breckinridge, last fall.” 

“True, father; but if I mistake not you will find 
this storm of secession has changed their natures. 
Why, even the ladies to-day seemed drunk with 
excitement, and blended with the crowd, displaying 
the secession badges they wore on their breasts.” 

“How did Frank Addison vote?” asked Mary, with 
an apparent effort. 

Robert looked sadly at her, and replied, as he drew 
her closer to his side, “I do not think Frank Addison 
is worthy of your love, my little sister. Try and 
think no more of him for the present.” 

44 What, brother Robert, do you mean to tell me 
that Frank Addison voted for secession? Oh, no, 
Robert, that cannot be ; two days since he promised 
me he would not.” 

“I am sorry to pain you more, dear Mary, but Ad- 
dison’s was the hand that pulled down the Stars and 
Stripes from the court-house, and it was he who helped 
to trample the flag in the dust.” 

The young girl leaned back in her chair, apparently 
overcome. The cold sweat stood in beads on her 
white forehead, and her lips grew ashy pale. Robert 
was alarmed, and hastily placed some water to her 
lips. At the same time Mrs. Warren came to her 
aid, and ‘vith a mother’s kind words tried to cheer 




THE PARLOR AND THE CABIN. 


37 


Sier. A few minutes of silence, and Mary rose with 
her hand to her heart, and said, in a supplicating 
tone : 

“ Oh, my mother ! my brother ! do not ask me to 
believe this terrible thing all at once.” 

Then she sat down beside her mother and laid he? 
head on the breast where she ever found comfort. 
The pure, young heart had experienced its first stun- 
ning blow, and she closed her eyes, as if closing out 
the world might make the sorrow seem a dream. 

At this juncture a servant entered the room, and 
Mr. Warren ordered him to tell Archy to come to the 
house. 

At the same time Mrs. Warren exclaimed, as she 
gently untwined her arms from about her daughter, 
“My poor boy, I have wholly overlooked your wound 
in our other sorrows. Why did you not mention it ?” 

“The very fact that I did not, mother, shows how 
trifling it is.” 

Mary rose suddenly at this, and, with her old voice 
and manner, started to assist her mother in removing 
the hair and plastering the wound, an operation that 
required nerve. But tenderer hands never dressed a 
more uncomplaining patient. In the meantime Archy 
had come in, and, hat in hand, stood respectfully at 
the door, while he asked Mr. Warren : “ Bid yell sen 
fur me, Mauss Bob ? ” 

“Yes, Archy,” said Mr. Warren, turning toward 
him, “ I want to speak to you on a subject of import- 
ance.” 

Mrs. Warren and Mary heard the black man’s voice,* 
and they hastened to thank him for his heroic con- 
duct. 


4 


33 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


He replied: “He good Lor’ knows, anybody’ d 
a’ done dat fur lMauss Eobut ; but I am sartin glad I 
was dar.” 

Mr. Warren continued : “ Arcby, you know tbe 
danger Master Eobert and yourself are in. I feel it 
would b* neither wise nor safe for either of you to 
remain here another day. You must accompany your 
young master, and when you get North he will make 
you free, and when the trouble is over I will send you 
your wife and children. You deserve all, Archy.” 

The last words were intended to compliment Archy, 
but he did not see it in that light, for, with some 
feeling, he said : 

“Why is yeh talkin’ ’bout freedom, Mauss Eobut? 
I ain’t dun nothin’ ; tole Mauss Eobut so. I does’nt 
want to be free. I’ll go wid Mauss Eobut, and I 
won’t lebe him till I die, praise de Lor’ ! But, maus- 
ser, while I’s gone^ won’t you take car’ ob Susey an’ 
de pickaninnies?” 

“Indeed I will, Archy. I give you my word that 
they will be well guarded till you return or meet 
them again. And now I want you to get ready for 
a long ride. Saddle the two English horses at once. 
Put on the best gear, and you must take my rifle and 
hunting-belt ; you will find them hanging up in my 
room. You may have to use them, Archy; and, in 
that event, I know you will use them well. Here, 
also, are two hundred dollars in gold ; you may need 
it if you and your master Eobert should get sepa- 
rated.” 

Archy took the purse, and then reached out his 
broad, black hand to his master, which the latter 
?Vvr ed. 


THE PARLOR AND THE CABIN. 


39 


“Mauss Bob, I’ll take cle rifle, an’ I’ll only use it 
to help Mauss Robut. I’ll stan’ by ’im foreber. I 
trus’ in God to come back agin’, mausser, for He 
tembers de shorn lamb to de storm.” 

So saying, Archy passed out of the room, where as 
a boy he had often waited on the plate of his young 
master. 

After Robert’s wound had been dressed, he went 
to the door and looked out at the black night. The 
rain still poured down in torrents, and he was about 
to close the door, when he heard the rapid galloping 
of a horse across the bridge a hundred yards from 
the house. This was followed by a shout from the 
rider, and in a few seconds he was at the door. 
Throwing himself from his horse, wet and covered 
with mud, he sprang up the steps and into the house, 
when, without speaking a word, he slammed the door 
shut. 

“What! you, Gaines?” said Robert, in astonish- 
ment, as he gazed on the dripping horseman. 

“Yes, me, and only me. I am the only one of 
our party left. They were all waylaid and murdered. 
I was fired at, but escaped through the bottom. I 
found Townsend’s horse in the woods, and I have 
ridden here to give the alarm. Indeed, I feared you 
were killed, and am glad to find you all right.” 

“They attempted it,” said Robert, “and but for 
Archy, they would have succeeded. But come to my 
room and change your clothes, for you must be half 
drowned, and after you have had a warm supper we 
can have a full conversation.” 

“I will do so, Robert ; but there is little time for 
talking. If we wish to continue this life, why, the 


iO 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


sooner we are in the saddle the better — though 
Heaven only knows where we are to fly to in this 
d -d State.” 

44 That I have determined to do. But come to my 
room and dress. Why, you are trembling with cold 
and excitement.” 

Beaching the room, and while changing his clothes, 
Gaines told Bobert that a German, named Muth, of 
their party, was hanged on the Colorado road ; that 
Mr. Williams was shot through the heart, and the 
other two were killed going towards Columbia. This 
he learned from some men who passed him in the 
dark. They also said that three negroes had killed 
some of the 4 4 knights, ,y and then taken to the 
bottom. 

44 That,” said Bobert, 4 4 is evidently my affair, of 
which I told you. Archy killed Sam J ackson, but it 
was to save my life.” 

“Well,” continued Gaines, 4 4 that was not all. I 
heard them swear theykl kill every man in Texas 
who voted for the Union, and I believe they are in 
earnest.” 

44 1 suppose they are, but you remember the saying 
about ‘catching before hanging,’ and if we would 
draw any comfort from it, I think we should start so 
as to bother them in overtaking us. T am going to 
take Archy, and there is no course left for you but to 
accompany us. I have an uncle, my father’s brother, 
in Kentucky, and I know he must feel as my father 
does in this matter. With him we will And a home, 
and when the Kentucky rifles go out to fight for the 
Union we will join them. What do you say to that, 
Gaines?” said Bobert, laying his hand on the shouf 


THE PARLOR AND THE CABIN. 41 

der of his friend, who was sitting with downcast eyes. 

“I am with you, heart and hand, Robert. Let us 
start within the hour. We can pass my house as we 
go up the river, for I must see my wife and boy. 
Poor girl, she will have a lonely time when I am gone,” 
and Gaines coughed to clear the choking lump which 
rose in his throat. 

Robert took the arm of his friend and brought him 
down to supper, which he had ordered a servant to 
provide, and in the supper-room he explained to the 
astonished family the cause of Gaines’s presence. 

While Gaines and Robert were drinking their cof- 
fee, Archy came to the door, and, in a voice strangely 
sad, said : “Mauss Robut, de hosses is ready.” 

4 4 All right, Archy,” said his young master in a tone 
of forced cheerfulness. “I want you to saddle Ne- 
grete, and fasten him to the rack with the other 
horses. Mr. Gaines is going with us.” 

Archy went out to comply with his master’s orders. 
Passing down through the long street of cabins, which 
could only be seen by the lights glimmering here and 
there through windows and chinks, he opened the 
door of a cabin, about the middle of the quarters, 
and went in. A fire was blazing on the hearth and a 
young negro woman and two black men were sitting 
before it. The woman rose as Archy entered, and 
said, as she came close to him : 

“Lor’ bress yeh, chile, yeh looks so tired an’ kinder 
sorry. Now do tell me all de matter. Yeh’s not 
sick, is yeh ? fur yeh says jes’ nothin’ since yeh corned 
from de viPge.” 

44 Time ’nuff tu tell yeh, Susey ; time ’nuff. Coon,” 
continued Archy, addressing one of the black men, 

4 * 


42 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ go to de stable an’ put Mauss Bob’s saddle on Ne- 
grete, an’ tote ’im roun’ to de rack.” 

“Lor’ a massy!” ejaculated Coon. “Mauss Bob 
ain’t agoin’ to ride dis bressed night, shuah?” 

“Neber yeh mine, Coon. Jes’ go an’ fotch Ne- 
grete. Ye’ll know plenty soon.” 

Coon rose, and, opening the door, gazed out into 
the murky night, then, drawing in his head, with won- 
dering eyes and a long-drawn breath, he said : 

“Archy, does yeh want dat ’ar boss fotched roun’, 
sartin ?” 

“Yes, I does, Coon. Go right off, an’ if yeh’s 
skeered, take Polph ’long.” 

Polph rose from his cosy seat, and while he and 
Coon groped their way to the stables, wondering in 
their innocent hearts “what de massy” was wrong, 
Archy sat down on the low T stool beside his wife and 
gazed into the heap of glowing coals ; then slowly 
looking up, he saw the eyes of the young woman fixed 
sadly, wonderingly on him. 

“ Susey,” he began, laying his hand on her’s, as if 
to ease the sorrow he was about to inflict, “I’se gwine 
’way to-night — ’long way off.” 

“Yeh’s gwine ’way to-night — ’long way off?” she 
exclaimed, repeating his words. “ Whar’s yeh gwine, 
Archy, an’ wat’s yeh gwine fur?” 

“Susey, Hen Townsend an’ two odders tried to kill 
young mauss to-night, but, bress de Lor’, I wus dar to 
sabe ’em. Iv we stays heah, Susey, dey’ll kill us 
sartin ; so Mauss Bobut an’ me mus’ clar out, right 
off. W e’s agwine to Kaintuck, Susey, whar yeh corned 
frum, when yeh wuz a pickanin. An’ den Mauss 
Robut is jus* gwine to fight fur de country.” 


THE PARLOR AND THE CABIN. 


43 


“ Wat’s Mauss Robut been gone an’ done dat he 
mils’ fight, Archy? ’Pears dar’s nuffin’ bift fightin’, 
an’ I reckon de worl’s cornin’ to an end !” said Susey* 
suppressing the tears that were evidently rising. 
Archy tried to console her. 

“Yeh can’t understan’ de laws ob de case, kase 
yeh’s a woman, Susey. Yeh’ 11 know some day — plenty 
time.” Then, changing his tone, he said : “Susey, I 
wants yeh to tink ob me when Ps gone, an’ take car* 
ob de chillen. Pll come back bimeby, an’ den, Su- 
sey, we won’t trubble no more.” 

Susey laid her left hand on the one which already 
clasped her right, and while the warm tears stole 
quietly down her black face, she said, in a sobbing 
voice : 

“ Pd ’pears like I w r on’t see yeh no more, Archy, 
an’ de little cabin ’ll be berry lonely when de hans 
come-back at night, an’ Pll look down de lane fur yer 
shadder — but yeh won’t be thar. So I doesn’t want 
to lib, Archy, now yeh’s gwine away.” 

“Don’t worry, Susey; Pll be back bimeby, an’ 
yeh’ll larf whin I meets de pickanins at de doah, 
an’ de trubble ’ll be gone, an’ de good Lor’ ’ll bress 
yeh, Susey.” * 

“Pll try, Archy, Pll try; bud ’tis berry hard, so 
berry hard,” and she bowed her head on her knees. 

Archy left her and stepped quietly to the little bed 
on the floor in the corner, where two plump, little 
woolly-headed children lay sleeping, with that peace- 
ful, innocent look to be found as well in the children 
of the slave as those of the master. He knelt beside 
them, and his lips moved for a while as if in prayer. 
Then he stooped and kissed the children, while the 


44 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


tears he would not have the mother see fell on the 
unconscious faces of the little ones. He rose, and, 
going back to the fire, laid his hand gently on Susey’s 
shoulder, as she sat with bowed head, swaying herself 
with low, plaintive moans. 

“Don’t cry, Susey, chile, ’taint no good nohow. 
Led’ me talk to yeh, Susey, ’fore I goes.” 

Susy raised her head and Archy continued : “ Mauss 
Bob gabe me some money, Susey ; it’s mor’n I want. 
Yeh must take half, coz yeh may want it, poor chile ; 
an’ nobody knows Tvat’s a-comin’.” 

Susey took the money, saying : “I’ll keep it till yeh 
comes back, Archy, an’ I pray de good Lor’ it may 
be soon.” 

The tramping of a horse outside told them Coon 
and Dolph were passing with Negrete. 

Archy hurriedly pulled on a pair of long, heavy 
cowhide boots, and taking down a pair of saddle-bags, 
often used by him in the branding season, he put in 
a few articles of clothing, and Susey gave him her new 
bandana wrapped around some bread and meat. 

“Put dis in, chile,” she said, “fur yeh mayn’t hab 
time to eat noff in in demornin’ — and Archy, honey, 

I wants yeh to keep de hankercher fur me.” 

It was no costly gift of remembrance — no portrait 
encased in golden lids ; and yet to the heart of the 
poor black man it was as precious as the most costly 
jewel ever bestowed by lady fair upon gallant 
knight. 

After he had everything prepared for the journey, 
Archy stood up beside his wife and said: “Susey, 
rnay de Lor’ bress and guard yeh wid his shadowy 
wings till I come back. Good-bye, my chile, an 


THE PARLOR AND THE CABIN. 


45 


don’t fret, nohow, for de bread cast on de waters 
shall return in many days.” 

He kissed her farewell, and before she could reply 
Archy had passed out of the little cabin, so dear to 
him, for in it dwelt his all in the world. 

Poor Susey ! All alone with her sorrow, she crept 
close to her little ones and poured out the overflow- 
ing woes of her heart in a low wail of agony. Again 
and again she kissed the unconscious children, as if 
their touch could heal her bleeding heart. Then, 
starting up, suddenly she threw a covering over her 
head and rushing out through the blinding storm, 
struggled toward the white folks’ house. Reaching 
there, she saw Archy, leaning on his rifle before the 
window of the supper room, and at times drawing his 
sleeve across his eyes. 

Inside the house another parting was taking place. 
Mrs. Warren, the tears streaming down her pale face, 
was clinging to the shoulder of her son. Robert 
spoke words of cheer which he did not feel, and 
tried to point her to his return, as if the faint pros- 
pect of future joy would ease her present sorrow. 
Again and again Robert kissed her troubled face, 
and then clasping Mary to his heart, told her to look 
ahead, for better days would come. Mr/ Warren 
grasped his son’s hand and tried to look a calmness 
he did not feel ; for a moment he gave way, and 
Robert’s arm prevented his falling to the floor. Archy 
stole in and bade the family good-bye. Then, prom- 
ising to send back word by every opportunity, the 
three men, with their rifles slung over their shoulders, 
passed out, and mounting their horses, rode into the 
Egyptian darkness. 


46 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Tears were shed by the white ladies in the house, 
and from the eyes of the black woman they flowed, 
as, crouched ’neath the dripping magnolia, her hungry 
gaze fed on the retreating forms till lost in the black 


CHAPTER Y. 


ANARCHY. 

After the three horsemen had ridden beyond the 
grounds that surrounded Mr. Warren’s house, Robert 
said to his white companion : 

“You are going to see your wife to-night, before 
we strike north. I wish, before leaving Gonzelletta, 
to see one who, if I am spared to return, shall be 
mine.” 

Without replying, Gaines turned his horse’s head 
in the direction of Mrs. Boardman’s plantation. By 
the time they reached there the rain had ceased, and 
the varying shades of blackness in the clouds showed 
the storm had spent its force. 

Leaving his companions standing by their horses 
outside, Kobert knocked at the door, and, after wait- 
ing for some time, a servant partially opened it, and, 
shading the light with her hand, peered cautiously 
at the intruder, whom she soon recognized. 

“Why, Lor’, Mauss Robut, is dat you?” she ex 
claimed. 

On being assured that it was, she opened the dooi 
and conducted him into the parlor, informing him at 
the same time that “young and ole miss had dona 
gone to bed.” 


18 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“I am sorry for that, Kitty; but you must tell 
them I am here. They will understand it and get up 
at once.” 

The girl gave a knowing smile and left the room. 

In a few minutes Mrs. Boardman entered, and ex- 
pressed herself astonished at Robert’ s visit at such 
a time. Amy entered immediately after, and to both 
he gave a brief account of the day’s adventures, and 
stated that he was then on his way to Kentucky. 

Surprise and grief were painted by turns on the 
faces of his listeners, and unconsciously the tears 
rose to the eyes of one. 

“ I feel that it would be hazardous to remain here 
another hour, Mrs. Boardman ; but, in leaving, it is 
with the firm belief that I will soon return in safety.” 

“I have relatives in Kentucky, Robert, and, if you 
will excuse me, I will go to my room and prepare for 
some introductions. You may find them useful.” 

Mrs. Boardman went to her room and Robert sat 
down beside Amy on the sofa. 

“ My little girl,” he said, gently stroking the brown 
hair that fell in w’avy masses to her waist, “ to-night 
I must say good-bye, for a longer time than we have 
ever been parted before ; and when I return it will 
be, Amy, to make you mine. Keep up a brave heart, 
and I will write to you whenever I see a chance of 
your getting my letters.” 

She looked into his face and said, “God is too 
good to part us forever. But be careful, Robert, and 
remember, ’mid every danger and trial, that I am 
praying for you.” 

She rose, and going to a stand took from it a pair 
of scissors. 


FIRST PATRIOT BLOOD. 


49 


“Robert, I want that lock of hair you have been 
promising me so long.” 

He bowed his head, and she started back with an 
exclamation of pain. “ Oh, Robert ! why did you not 
tell me this? They came nearer killing you than 
you would have me know.” 

He assured her it was only a scratch, and told her 
to take a lock from the part of his head where there 
were no blood stains. She severed one, but it grew 
close to the path of the coward’s bullet, and was 
dyed with the first patriot blood shed in Texas. 

44 1 will treasure this, Robert, more dearly, if 
possible, than ever, and in moments of dejection it 
will nerve my heart and intensify my hatred of those 
bad men whose acts have torn you from me !” 

He drew her toward him, the strong arms pressed 
her to his heart, and their lips met — to be parted for 
years. 

Mrs. Boardman shortly returned with the letters, 
and Robert, with a heavy heart, said farewell to his 
more than friends. 

Again in the saddle, their horses’ heads were turned 
northward, and at a flying pace, regardless of roads, 
and guided only by the stars, which began to struggle 
through the thinning clouds, they swept over the 
prairie. For a short time they stopped at the house 
of Andrew Gaines, while he procured some clothing 
and exchanged Negrete for his own favorite mustang. 
Poor fellow, he left behind him his lovely young wdfe 
and child and his aged mother. No wonder that he 
remained silent till daylight and the sun came to 
drive the gloom from his heart. 

About forty miles north of Gonzelletta they struck 
5 


60 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


the settlement of Santa Cruz, a collection of cattle 
ranches, with a log store m the middle. To pass the 
place would be to create suspicion at once, so they 
boldly rode up, and Kobert asked if they could get 
breakfast and have their horses fed at the store. 
Being answered in the affirmative, the three men 
dismounted, and, while Archy cared for the horses, 
Kobert and Gaines entered the store, which, in truth, 
was more like a bar-room, with its array of bottles, 
than a store, for cowhide boots and whisky appeared 
to constitute the stock in trade. A number of men, 
apparently the worse for the last night’s carouse, 
were sitting around on the empty barrels and broken 
chairs, discussing the result of the vote in Fort Bend 
County. 

Our friends resisted any attempts at pumping until 
after they had partaken of a warm breakfast, of which 
they stood much in need. 

Returning to the store-room, Robert heard one of 
the men say : 

“Boys, didn’t yell know ole Jackson went up last 
night?” 

“No, you don’t say J” replied a chorus, in surprise. 

“Sure as shootin’ ! The boys on the East Bernard 
strung him, an’ I heard they was a-goin’ for Dempsey. 
I kinder pity Dempsey if they catch him !” 

“Serves the d — d old traitor right,” said a young 
man with blood-shot eyes, spitting vigorously on the 
floor. 

“ I helped boost that cussed long-legged Adams, 
an’ I’d do the same to ole Sammy Houston if he wuz 
here,” said another. 

“Sam’s gone back on Texas, sliuah. Come, boys. 


WARREN’S STRATEGY. 


61 


licker again,” said an owly-looking man, who up to 
this time had been whittling the top of the barrel on 
which he sat, with his bowie-knife. 

At this juncture a tall young man entered the room 
and was greeted with a “Hurrah fur Captain Wilson !” 
Captain Wilson, after taking a drink, in which al 1 
joined, said : 

4 4 Boys, Pm going to raise a company to fight the 
Yankees, if necessary. How many here will join 
me ?” 

“I,” 44 1,” 44 I,” came from every man in the room 
except Warren and Gaines. Their silence attracted the 
attention of one of the men, who, going up to Warren 
with a swagger, said : 

“See here, friend, are you willing the South 
should have her rights?” 

“Indeed am I,” replied Warren with startling em- 
phasis. 

“And in case the Yankees shouldn’t let us have 
them, are you willing to fight for them ?” 

44 With all my strength!” said Warren. 

“ Then why in thunder dcfci’t you fall in and say 
so?” 

“ Oh, you have no organization, nor do I at present 
see a necessity for one. But the moment the South 
is subjected to an act of tyranny, I will raise a regi- 
ment and command it myself.’ ’ 

“And I will be a high private in your command,” 
said Gaines ; and Archy, who by this time had brought 
up the horses, interposed with — 44 Wall, I reckon if I 
can’t fight, I can jes’ beat any man in de regmen’ a 
cookenV’ 

“Come up an’ licker, every man, nigger an’ all, 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


yei just tlie bulliest kind of boys,” said the ques« 
tion<*r. 

Warren poured out a glass of native wine, and 
raising it, addressed the crowd : “ Friends, drink my 
toast.” The glasses were all filled. “ May the arm 
of the traitor who opposes right wither, and may he 
who loves not his country never have a home in the 
sunny South 1” 

Loud cheers greeted this ambiguous toast, and 
Warren’s hand was grasped by every man in the room. 

Not deeming it prudent to tarry long, the horsemen 
were soon again pushing southward, their plan being to 
go through Husk and Marshall, in southern Texas # 
thence into Arkansas, and through Tennessee into 
Kentucky. 

A few miles above Santa Cruz they crossed the 
river by a ferry, and, and while leading their horses 
up the muddy banks, and beyond the swampy ap- 
proach to the river, Archy’s attention was arrested 
by an object in the advance. On a nearer approach 
it proved to be the body of a man, fastened to a tree 
by the hands and legs.# The head was a pulpy mass, 
and the bark on the tree on each side was chipped 
and furrowed by bullets, showing that the man had 
been made a target of by his cruel murderers. War- 
ren noticed a piece of paper at the foot of the tree, 
that had evidently been pinned to the body, but 
which the rain had beaten off. Taking it up, he read, 
»n rudely written characters, “ A warning to all aholi * 
tioners .” 

Warren looked steadily at the body, and in a low 
voice said : “ Yes, the very name that from my child- 
hood I have hated will now be applied to me, for in 


ANARCHY. 


63 


the South to-day abolition and Union are synony- 
mous.” 

“ I see nothing ahead but anarchy, Robert. Law- 
lessness all around us, and murder rising to a virtue.” 

“Don’t give up, Gaines. My faith is firm in God, 
and I would as soon doubt Him as doubt the success 
of what we deem right.” 

“ I have no hope. A principle led me to vote for 
Union yesterday— the fear of death drives me, I know 
not whither, to-day.” 

All day long they rode across the prairies, each 
busy with his own thoughts. Occasionally they saw 
bands of horsemen riding in the distance, but they 
met with none. Once they stopped to rest their 
horses, when they lunched on the bread and meat 
which the thoughtful Susey had done up in the red 
bandana. 

As night approached thoughts of food and a camp- 
ing place, where water could be found, came up. Urg- 
ing their horses to a strip of timber, which in Texas 
is always an indication of water, Robert Warren 
rode ahead of the party to a depression, or “ hog-wal- 
low,” in the prairie. There he touched his horse, 
the intelligent animal lay down, and Warren took 
a deer-call from his pocket and gave a few bleats. Sud- 
denly a hundred red deer rose, and, snuffing the wind, 
with short, proud steps, looked around in surprise. 
They were too far off to risk a shot, so Warren 
mounted his horse, lying full length along him, then 
giving a low whistle the horse rose, and, with head 
turned in the direction of the deer, walked deliber- 
ately toward them. The rider was unobserved till 
surrounded by the herd, when he suddenly rose, and 
6 * 


54 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


the startled deer turned, and with long bounds dashed 
away ; but one grand buck was too late for Warren’s 
rising. Selecting and firing appeared to be one in- 
stantaneous act, and the deer came to the ground. 
Dismounting from his horse, he walked up to the dy- 
ing buck, and ran his hunting knife through the neck. 
By this time Archy came up and threw the deer across 
his horse, with scarcely a comment ; and, riding to the 
timber, each proceeded to prepare the camp. War- 
ren dressed the deer, Archy picketed the tired horses, 
and Gaines started a fire and cut green sticks on 
which to toast the steak. Their appetites were good, 
and they enjoyed their hunter’s fare. They were 
wearied, and slept soundly by the blazing camp- 
fire, with the stars shining down, and the still air 
giving no sound but the feeding of the horses. 


CHAPTER VI. 


“NEAR USED UP.” 

While Warren and his companions slept by the 
camp-fire, after their ride of ninety miles, the home 
at G-onzelletta was anything but peace. 

Henderson Townsend, after Robert Warren had 
left him on the Brazoria road, returned to the town, 
leading back his wounded comrade. Although it was 
quite dark when he reached Brazoria, the drunken 
crowd had not dispersed. The bar-room was full of 
swaggering men, singing ribald songs, and swearing 
vengeance on the Yankees and the men who voted 
for Union. The appearance of Townsend among them, 
in the manner stated, was the signal for a burst of sur- 
prise. 

“By the living Jupiter and Santa Anner, Hen, yer 
a beautiful picture !” cried one. 

“How the devil did yer both git fixed that way?” 
asked another. 

Townsend, with an air of great weakness, dropped 
into a chair, while his companion went out to cleanse 
the blood from his face and have his wound attended 
to. 

“ I’m near used up,” began Townsend with a whine ; 
“ will some one give me a drink?” After swallowing 


66 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


a tumblerful of whisky, Townsend groaned and 
pressed both his hands around his throat, and then 
groaned again. 

“ See here, Townsend, you’re coming it a little stiff. 
You can’t make me believe you’re hurt as bad as all 
that. Come, trot out your story. We’re all spilin' 
to hear your yarn,” said a young man, whose very ex- 
pression spoke a contempt for the whining wretch. 

“Well, you know we started to make that cuss, 
Warren, take back his high-flown words, and when we 
came up with him he showed fight. Oh, boys, some 
one give me a drink!” 

“Well, I’ll be d — d if I don’t think Warren took 
the starch out of you, Townsend. Why, confound 
you, you’ll be as drunk as a swill-fed hog if you don’t 
go on,” again spoke the young man, who appreciated 
Townsend. After swallowing some more liquor. 
Townsend continued : 

“Warren showed fight an’ dared us to come near 
him. He called us Wharton’s hounds, an’ renegade 
traitors. Then me an’ Dempsey ran at him, but he 
had three niggers hid in the chaparral, an’ they run 
at us from behind, an’ that big nigger^ Archy, cut 
Dempsey’s head open with an axe, an’ knocked Flem- 
ing down. I fought the two of them.” 

“ Stop, Townsend, didn’t you say there were three 
niggers and Warren?” interposed the young man. 

“Yes; but I scared off two of them: they took 
to the bottom, an’ I fought the others till it were no 
kinder use, and I took to the woods myself. I saw 
that nigger Archy pick Sam Duprey’s pockets, an’ 
then foller Warren to Gonzelletta. Then I come 
roun’ an’ helped Fleming in, an’ now we’re here.” 


INFURIATED. 


67 


He spoke the last words with the tone of a man 
asking compassion, and truly he received it. A 
storm of savage imprecations followed the narrative 
of Townsend’s injuries, and a number of the men 
sprang to their feet, swearing that they would s^art 
for Warren’s at once, and hang him and all his nig- 
gers to the trees. One of them opened the door, as 
if to carry out his threat, but the petty tempest of 
human wrath was hushed before the mighty anger of 
the elements. Down in torrents came the drenching 
rain. Flash after flash of lightning blinded those 
who gazed out, and the crashing, deafening thunder 
filled the men in the bar-room with awe. 

“Boys, no man kin live out sich a night as this. 
I never seed sich a storm on the Brazos. If it don’t 

rise to-morrow and sw r eep suthin to h 1, I'm a 

liar.” 

The door was slammed to, and for a while the 
wrongs of Townsend were forgotten in comments on 
the storm. But little was said till the tornado began 
to abate, and then cooler reason had resumed its sway. 

The young man who had attempted to joke Town- 
send was the first to return to the subject. His face 
was frank and intelligent, but showed signs of early 
dissipation. Filling a glass with water, he drank it 
off, and theiT; with the gestures of a boyish declaimer, 
began : 

“Now, I know Hen Townsend, and I’ll be hanged 
if I" always swallow what he says. He ain’t just the 
fellow to tie to, in my opinion ; but I think he, has 
told pretty near the truth in the story he has just 
given. I can take it all in, but his fighting Warren. 
You all know that’s cussed stuff.” 


58 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Here Townsend groaned and asked for another 
drink, while young Bentley continued : 

“Now, Pm in for catching Warren, but this ain’t 
just the night for it.” 

“Not by a thunderin’ sight,” said one of the men 
who had been so anxious to start at once. 

“ If we go out there to-morrow, why, Robert Warren 
wouldn’t be found lying on the sofa with handcuffs 
on, saying, ‘Boys, I’m your prisoner, take me out and 
hang me.’ Not much, T reckon! If we meet him 
to-morrow we’ve got to fight, and I think Bob Warren 
ain’t behind any man when you git him thar. Now, 
my plan is to go out to-morrow night, after dusk ; they’re 
more likely to be in then than any other time. And 
we can go for them. Then we’ll bring them to Bra- 
zoria, try them, and if found guilty, why — ” and 
Bentley finished the sentence in pantomime, by tighten- 
ing the knot on his cravat, holding one end up, and 
dropping his head on his right shoulder, with a gurgling 
sound, intended to imitate a death-rattle. 

This plan met the approval of those present, a s 
indeed anything else which Bently might have said 
would. Then the party sank to sleep, some on the 
floor, some on chairs, and Townsend, by virtue of his 
injuries, on the only spare bed in the tavern. 
About noon of the following day a meeting of the 
citizens was called to organize the militia, and 
Wharton again spoke in the court-house. He had 
dispatches from Houston, stating that enough of 
the State had been heard from to warrant the 
statement that Texas had gone overwhelmingly 
for secession. He told them that “Brazoria County 
had done nobly, though he was pained, as his 


PROSCRIPTION AND MURDER. 


59 


hearers must be, that James Bell, of the supreme 
bench, a native of that county, had voted at Austin 
for Union .’ 9 He told his hearers that friends must 
be sacrificed and all ties severed, if they found 
them to be advocates of Union. Those who voted for 
the Union should be made to go north, for there were 
the people in sympathy with them. He desired the 
people to maintain law and order until such time as 
the seceded States could remodel their laws and ap- 
point proper officers. One thing the people must 
watch, and that was the latent love of the old Union 
which some might yet entertain. Every word breathed 
against the South or her holy cause was a crime so 
heinous, that the greatest penalty known to the law 
should be enforced to crush out opposition. 

Such was the advice of Wharton, and such the 
teaching of hundreds of others in the ‘ 4 Lone Star 
State.” How well those lessons were received a 
thousand desolate homes can testify. Widows wailed 
in sorrow for their husbands, and children watched in 
vain for a father’s return. Murder, drunken with the 
blood of the faithful, stalked through the land, re- 
specting not the grey hairs of the patriarch, pitying 
not the supplications of the youth. 

About the time that 44 nature’s sweet restorer ” had 
rendered Robert Warren and his companions obliv- 
ious to the world and its cares, a band of some 
fifteen horsemen, armed to the teeth, dismounted in 
the rear of his father’s plantation. Fastening their 
horses, they advanced so as to surround the house by 
the time they reached it. While moving cautiously 
through a field, Townsend swore a savage oath, shout- 
ing at the same time : 


60 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“See here, boys, here’s my horse that Warren’s 
niggers stole!” and, sure enough, there was Town- 
send’s horse. He had succeeded in breaking his 
halter and getting into the fields after Gaines had 
dismounted the previous evening. The finding of the 
horse was the spark which fired the hearts of the des- 
perate band. They were soon around the house, and 
two of the men were sent to the negro quarters, 
where, by threats, they learned from Susey that Archy 
and his master had fled to Galveston. 

Bentley, as leader of the party, accompanied by 
Townsend, knocked at the door, and, on its being 
opened, they walked in, asking the servant if Mr. 
Robert Warren was home. 

“ Mauss Itobut ain’t heali. He’s done gone, shuah.” 

“None of your nonsense,” said Bentley, in a savage 
tone, “tell your master, girl, I want to see him.” 

The servant soon returned, telling the men that 
Mr. Warren would see them in his room. They strode 
in, and found the old gentleman looking haggard and 
reclining on a sofa. Motioning them to seats, he asked, 
“Gentlemen, what is your pleasure with me?” 

“We come, sir,” said Bentley, “armed with the 
law, to arrest your son and three of your servants 
for the murder and robbery of one of our loyal citi- 
zens, and for the attempted murder of others, besides the 
crime of horse-stealing, which can be proved as well.” 

“These are strong charges, sir; but, I rejoice to 
say, they are wholly without foundation, consequently 
one is as difficult to prove as the other.” 

“ We will be better able to judge after the parties 
are tried,” said Bentley, “and now I wish to know 
where we can find them?” 


A FEARLESS OLD PATRIOT. 


61 


“Indeed, gentlemen, ” replied Mr. Warren, “I 
cannot tell you.” 

“ You mean you will not.” 

“I desire to convey no such impression, sir ; though 
1 might, with truth, say I would not if I could/ ” said 
Mr. Warren, sitting upright. 

Bentley continued : “You must be aware of their 
whereabouts, and such being the case, you shield 
their crimes from the law, and become a partner in 
their guilt. But we will not be satisfied with your 
denial. Boys !” he shouted, going to the window, 
“ come in here, three of you, right off.” 

Three rough, heavily-bearded fellows sprang in at 
the call, and were ordered by Bentley to search the 
house. While they were doing so, he turned to Mr. 
Warren and said : 

“ If your son has fled, we want no further evidence 
of his guilt.” 

“ My son has fled, sir, but he is innocent of the 
crimes alleged. Last night he was attacked by three 
armed villains ; among them the man w T ho stands be- 
side you. He was wounded, and but for his servant 
would have been killed.” 

“If such is the truth, Mr. Warren, why did your 
son leave Columbia County?” 

“ He left from no fear of a just law and an impar- 
tial judgment, but to avoid the fury of the fanatics, 
who hate him because lie dared to do his duty.” 

“’Tis a lie!” roared Townsend, blind with rage; 
“’tis a lie, you old abolitionist!” 

The color rose to the pale cheeks of Mr. Warren, 
his dark eyes flashed, and a momentary strengthbraced 
him, as he hurled a heavy silver pitcher at Townsend’s 
6 


62 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


head, and then fell exhausted to the floor. Town- 
send, with his arm, warded off the blow, and then 
jumped with his whole might on the postrate man. 
Mary, who had entered the room at that moment, 
with a cry of pain threw her arms for protection 
around her prostrate father, while Bentley, shouting 
out, “You miserable coward!” hurled Townsend 
across the room. 

The noise brought Mrs. Warren in, and with Bent- 
ley’s aid they lifted the fainting old man on the sofa, 
and the distracted wife and daughter after a time re- 
stored him to consciousness. 

At this juncture the three men who had been 
searching the house returned, stating they had not 
found Bobert Warren, but in his room they discovered 
the clothes he had worn at Brazoria, torn and covered 
with blood. 

“These,” said Bentley, holding up the blood-soaked 
garments, “ are further proofs of your son’s guilt, and 
were it not for the murdered man we buried to-day, 
and the wounded man, who may not live, I would not 
credit Townsend’s story.” 

“ Bo you not know,” said Mr. Warren, in a scarcely 
audible voice, “that others who voted for Union were 
attacked and killed going from Brazoria about the 
same time. You must be aware, too, that all those 
men had their horses stolen by Townsend. He ac- 
knowledged it to my son.” 

“No I didn’t,” said Townsend quickly. “Your 
son’s an abolitionist, an’ yesterday he voted agin’ us, 
an’ he called our flag a rag ; an’ any man that does 
that should be hung. Wharton says so.” 

Mr. Warren turned to Bentley : 


THE CAPTIVE. 


63 


“ Did Wharton utter such sentiments to the people V 9 

“Yes, sir; he did,” was the reply. 

“Then,” continued Mr. Warren, “I am as guilty as 
my son ; for had I been able to attend the polls I 
should certainly have voted as he did.” 

“Didn’t I tell yer?” roared Townsend. “Didn’t I 
tell yer he was a abolitionist? Now, Bentley, carry 
out yer word, an’ have this man put through.” 

A shade of sorrow passed over Bentley’s face as 
he said : “Mr. Warren, I regret that! must take you 
to the town, and that I am compelled to continue my 
search till we find your son.” 

“ Take the old traitor along !” shouted several men 
who had crowded on the gallery, and were looking in 
through the windows. “Take him along, an’ string 
him up if he goes back on us !” 

“Oh, gentlemen!” cried Mrs. Warren, throwing 
her arms around her husband’s neck. “For the sake 
of heaven do not move my husband. He is an inva- 
lid, and cannot bear it. Take me, my property, my 
life ; but spare him. Oh ! by the love you bear your 
fathers, spare him !’ ’ 

“Hush, my wife,” said the old man, attempting to 
rise. “Do not fret ; they will not injure me beyond 
taking me to the village. Mr. Bentley, you will let 
me take my own carriage, and permit my daughter to 
accompany me ?” 

“Certainly, sir; and I will here say that if I con- 
sulted my own feelings you would not have to move 
one inch.” 

In a short time the carriage came to the door, and 
Mr. Warren, leaning on the arm of his care-worn 
daughter, stepped in, with a kind word to his weep- 


64 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


ing wife. The horsemen formed around, as if they 
were guarding a desperado, and the procession moved 
towards Brazoria. 

The carriage stopped not till it had reached a heavy 
brick structure in the center of the town, when Town- 
send came to the window, and in a taunting voice 
said, “ Come right out, sir, here’s yer ranche till yeh 
cool down on the Yankee an’ the nigger.” 

Mary helped her father out, and, looking up at the 
jail, a cold thrill ran through her, and she clung for 
support to her father’s frail arm. 

Bentley was not among the guards. Hasty as he 
w r as, his natural goodness of heart led him to avoid 
this scene. 

After standing a few minutes before the building, 
a rough voice shouted'out, “Bring along yer man, 
Townsend — got his quarters all ready.” 

“ Oh my father ! my dear, dear father, you cannot 
live there ! Oh men, mercy, mercy ! My father has 
done no wrong ! Before God, my father has done no 
wrong ! He is old and sick, and the damp prison will 
kill him. Oh, as you hope for mercy at God’ s throne, 
don’t break my heart ! Don’t kill my father !” 

“My child, my little Mary, do not fret,” said Mr. 
Warren in a kind, strong tone ; “ I will be out in a few 
days. They cannot keep me here. Why, I will be 
safely back to Gonzelletta in a few days.” 

Poor girl, she could not speak. The gentle heart 
was breaking, and even the stars seemed to look with 
pity on her mighty woe. 

The prison doors closed that night on the old pa- 
triot, and there was weeping in his once happy home 
at Gonzelletta. He prayed God that he might live 


THE CAPTIVE RELEASED. 


65 


to see all his dear ones again, and peace restored to 
the land. 

God answers those prayers which, in His far-seeing 
wisdom, seem best. After many days the old man 
was released. He lay upon the old safa, and soft 
'botsteps moved around him. Mary knelt at his feet, 
ind the soft hand of his wife wiped the cold white 
forehead, and whispered words of tenderness and 
hope. The spirit fluttered on the thin pale lips as he 
tried to respond. Once they moved as if in prayer. 
Then for a time all was still, save the ticking of the 
old clock, and an occasional sob. Then in an audi- 
ble voice, that sounded as if from a better land, he 
said: “I forgive them. Bless, 0 God! bless the 
cause of right ! Preserve my wife, my children. 
Bobert, Bobert !” A scarcely audible sound followed. 
One long breath, and slowly, as the manly chest set- 
tled down, the spirit passed out and left him as if 
asleep. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE JOURNEY NORTHWARD, 

Fr* thirteen days Robert Warren and friends 
pusi * i northward, prudently avoiding M>e villages 
and * hick settlements, till they reached the beau- 
tiful lown of Marshall in northeastern Texas, Here 
they determined to stop, in order to obtain supplies 
and news from the world, out of which they had been 
shut on their long ride. Robert W arren was astonished 
to Var men boasting in Marshall, that, while all the 
northeastern counties had voted for Union, the re- 
turrs were so falsified as to make the result seem the 
other way. Thus Texas, though at heart in favor of 
th<> Union, was rushed out. Thousands were deterred 
from voting as they felt, and where they did vote 
against secession, the result was changed. 

On the evening of the arrival of our party in Mar- 
sh vll, the stage, heavily laden with passengers, came 
in from Houston. From one of the new arrivals 
Vv arren succeeded in borrowing a few copies of tho 
fl uiston Telegraph. While reading them over his 
e> <*s rested on the following paragraph : 

“ $5,000 REWARD! 

“ SHOCKING MURDER IN BRAZORIA ! 

* “Brazoria, March 24, 1861. 

‘ The above reward will be given for the body of 


PATRIOTS POSTED. 


67 


Bobert Warren, jr., late of Gonzelletta ; Ihe afore- 
said Warren being guilty of the cold-blooded murder 
of two of our loyal citizens. He was aided in his 
fiendish acts by a negro who answers to the name of 
‘Archy.’ The murderer Warren is twenty-five years 
of age, dark-complexioned, with black moustache and 
grey eyes. He is strongly built, is about six feet in 
height, and has a strong, decided way of speaking. 
Half the above reward will be given for any infor- 
mation that may lead to his capture. All persons 
knowingly harboring or aiding the aforesaid fugitives 
are subject to arrest and trial as abettors in their of- 
fense.” 

This was signed by many of the prominent citizens 
of Brazoria, and was made the subject of an editorial 
in the Telegraph . The crime of murder in the south- 
ern States was treated as the direct effect of abolition 
teaching. The article closed by invoking its readers, 
“ as they loved peace, religion, and liberty, to crush 
down every feeling of sympathy for the old Union. 
That once honored word has lost its original meaning, 
and now denotes abolition, tyranny, puritanism, free- 
lovism, and every other crime — a reproach to civiliza- 
tion and the race.” 

Bobert handed this paper to Gaines before return- 
ing it to the gentleman from whom he had borrowed 
it. Gaines read it with compressed lips, and having 
finished it, he said hurriedly and incautiously : 

“ Bobert, the man who edits that paper, the fellow 
who penned that article, is a native of New England. 
I knew him when he first settled in Houston, a second- 
rate school teacher. But he married old Burton’s 
daughter, and owns slaves. The scoundrel ! Why, in 


68 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


his own State he must have been the most whining 
abolitionist and constitutional hater of the South. 
Now, he is a sneaking traitor who would not give up 
the smallest negro on his place to save the whole 
government. I say d — n the Yankees !” 

Robert saw that Gaines was getting excited, and 
stopped him by calling to his mind, in a whisper, their 
situation. 

The gentleman who had loaned the paper over- 
heard Gaines's excited speech, and looking up to Rob- 
ert he tapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Excuse 
me, but I wish to speak privately with you for a few 
moments. ,, 

“ Certainly, sir,” said Warren as he followed the 
man up stairs. Entering a room, his conductor turned 
the key in the door, and in a calm tone said, “Be 
seated, Mr. Warren.” 

For a moment Robert could not speak, but stared 
in wonder at the man thus addressing him. He soon 
recovered his self possession, and, drawing a pistol 
from his belt, asked in a tone which showed he was 
in no trifling humor : 

“Who are you, sir? and what did you bring me 
here for?” 

“ Put up your pistol, Robert Warren ; I am a friend. 
My name is Charles Anderson, formerly of Ohio, and 
I think, sir, that my patriotism is as strong as yours. 
I brought you here to put you on your guard, for, if 
I mistake not, others, less friendly, have the same sus- 
picions I had.” 

Mr. Anderson held out his hand as he concluded, 
and Robert clasped it warmly. 

“ God bless you, sir. But you do not believe that 


A FRIEND INDEED. 


69 


infamous story in the paper ?” 

“Believe it? no! I heard a true version of the 
whole affair before I left Houston, and I have been 
praying ever since for your escape.” 

“Well, Mr. Anderson, you know my situation; 
what would you advise under the circumstances?” 

“I would advise you to start this very night, if 
your horses can stand it, for Shreveport, Louisiana. 
You can reach there by morning, and then rest but 
little till you put the Mississippi between you and 
Texas.” 

Kobert Warren agreed to follow the advice of his 
new friend and start for Shreveport before dark. 

Mr. Anderson told him more about the iniquity of 
the election, and of his own determination to go north 
as soon as possible — 

“ F or,’ ’ said he, 4 4 1 thank God, Mr. W arren, there are 
some northern men in the South who dare to be true, 
and who, though their efforts have been futile, have 
tried to stem the torrent of rebellion. I saved this,” 
continued he, showing a flag wrapped around his 
breast inside his waistcoat, “I saved this from the 
fury of the mob at Austin, and I will retain it till I 
can hoist it again over the capitol of Texas.” 

Then Robert’s eyes filled as he took the shreds of 
the torn flag from his own pocket, and briefly recount- 
ed to Mr. Anderson the facts in connection with the 
voting in Brazoria, with which the reader is already 
familiar. 

Deciding to act on Mr. Anderson’s advice at once, 
Robert descended with that gentleman to the bar- 
room, where he found Gaines, and informed him in 
an undertone of his determination to leave Marshall 


70 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


at once. After partaking of a hearty supper, they 
bade Mr. Anderson farewell, and before it was quite 
dark they were seven miles from Marshall, on the 
Shreveport road. 

Considering the immediate danger as passed, they 
slackened the speed of their weary horses, and rode 
at a walk till ten o’clock. While ascending a hill 
on the road, they were startled by the sound of horses 
galloping rapidly behind them. Archy dismounted, 
and placing his ear to the ground listened for a few 
seconds, then rising, hurriedly said : 

“ Mauss Robut, dar’s mor’n ten, an dey’s comin dis 
way right smart, shuah.” 

“It may be some party in pursuit, and, if so, it 
would be foolish to race them with our jaded horses. 
Gaines, are your arms ready, and yours, Archy ?” 
Being answered in the affirmative, Robert continued, 
“ I think our wisest plan is to turn into the woods and 
dismount till they pass.” 

Dismounting, they led their horses into the woods 
and for some distance through the dense undergrowth. 
They were about ten yards from the road when a party 
of horsemen galloped to the top of the hill, and the 
fugitives could see by the starlight the glistening of 
their polished guns. Their horses were panting from 
their hard ride, and one of the party shouted out : 

“ Halt, fels ! I don’t think they corn’d on this har 
road, or we’d overtook ’em. I think we’re on the 
wrong scent.” 

“No we ain’t,” answered another, “kase I looked 
the tracks two mile back, an’ they wuz on this road, 
an’ they couldn’t a’ took another, fur thar ain’t none.” 

“ Waal,” said the first speaker, who appeared to be 


THE PURSUIT. 


71 


the le*»de*, “ thar’s no kinder use in all on us agoin 
arter ’em by this light. Let six of yer keep doun the 
road, an’ if yer ain’t back in an hour, we’ll think yer 
on the trail, and foller. We’ll rest the critters an’ 
start a fire till then.” 

This was agreed to, and six of the horsemen gal- 
loped rapidly down the road, while the remainder, 
some eight in number, dismounted and took off the 
bridles to let their animals rest. Soon a bright glare 
lit up the woods from the camp-fire of the pursuers. 
They were about sixty yards from the spot where the 
three men stood by their horses, and so still was the 
atmosphere that the breaking of the smallest twig 
could be heard from their place of concealment. 

“They may not be after us, Gaines,” whispered 
Warren; “ I will make sure. Keep the bridle over 
Don’s head, Archy, for I may have to mount rapidly. 
Be still as the grave till I return.” 

So saying, llobert Warren carefully removed his 
long Mexican spurs, and putting them in his saddle- 
bags, walked with the cautious step of an Indian to- 
ward the fire. 

He noticed within a few yards of the group a tree 
much larger than the usual scrubby growth, and, get- 
ting into its shadowy he crawled close to it, and from 
its protection he drank in with thirsty ears every w r ord 
of the men around the fire. 

“If,” said one, who had stretched himself on his 
face full length before the fire, “ if w e’d corn’d up with 
them thar fellers, I reckon they’d a showed right 
smart fight.” 

“ Y ou bet,” laconically grunted a stabvart giant, who 
stood basking himself in the heat of the blazing logs. 


72 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“We’d orter got ’em in town,” said the leader. 

“ That feller, Bentley, had orter come hisself. I’m 
afeared we’ll have the hunt for nothing.” 

“ Waal, I dunno about takin’ ’em in town,” said 
the first speaker. “If we’d a tried it, I reckon we’d 
a’ had more to fight than a nigger and two white men, 
for thar is more mangy cusses in Marshall than I ever 
seed ; an’ if they knowed when we wuz cornin’, you 
bet, they’d a follered an’ gi’n us trouble.” 

“See here,” said the giant before referred to, “if 
I knowed them fellers wasn’t murderers, by thunder, 
you wouldn’t catch me arter ’em.” 

“Yes, Tennessee, I believe, as true as I’m Sam 
Rose, yer as much of a Yankee as any of ’em, if ye’d 
only spunk ter show it,” said the leader. 

“ If I’d only spunk to show it ! You blasted fool, 
do yeh suppose I darn’t say jest what I please, an’ do 
what I please, without fear of any man?” asked the 
man addressed as Tennessee, taking a step toward 
Rose. 

“I don’t think yer skeered, but I do think yeh ain’t 
jist 0. K. ; that’s all.” 

“Waal,” replied Tennessee, “I’ll tell you uns how 
I feel ’bout it. Grinral Jackson loved the Union, an’ 
cussed if I don’t to. The Yankees never did me 
harm, an’ if we’re goin’ to have war, why, I jest think 
it’ll be a rich man’s quarrel an’ a poor man’s fight. 
I ain’t spilin’ to fight unless some onery fool gives me 
gab.” 

“Yes, Tennessee, if all on us did that, the aboli- 
tionists would come down har an’ make yeh marry a 
nigger wench. IIow would yeh like that, ole fel?” 

“ I wouldn’t like it, if it wuz so ; but that’s chile 


TIIE ENCOUNTER. 


73 


talk. I’ve got a white woman fur a wife, an’ a bully 
girl she is. But I’ll tell yehwhat, Bose, some of you 
fellers mout as well have nigger wives as live as yeh do.” 

“What do yeh mean?” demanded Bose, rising. 
“ Tennessee, yer as bad as the houns we’re a chasing, 
an’ if yeh want to keep yer skin whole, my advice is 
to clar’ out jist as soon as yeh kin.” 

“Ye’d better keep yer shirt on, Bose. Another 
word in that style, an’ by the ghost of Ginral Jack- 
son, I’ll roast yeh on this fire !” and Tennessee fingered 
the hilt of his huge knife and kicked the logs before 
him till a shower of sparks, like a fiery fountain, flew 
upward. 

At this point of the conversation the loud neighing 
of a horse in the woods rang out and startled the men 
around the fire. 

“By -, they’re in thar !” shouted Bose, spring- 

ing to his feet and advancing toward the tree behind 
which Bobert was concealed. “I heerd some one 
speak in thar, sure ! Tumble up, men ; we’ll cotch 
them.” 

The suggestion of Bose was ha tily complied with, 
the men seizing their arms and rushing in the direc- 
tion indicated by the sound. 

Quick as a flash, Robert Warren sprang from be- 
hind the tree, and with his knife cut loose the horses 
of his pursuers, and then with a yell, such only as an 
Indian or a Texan can give, he drew his pistol and 
fired toward Bose’s gang. They turned, to a man, to 
meet this attack in the rear, but Warren was not tc 
be seen. He sprang unperceived into the woods, and 
in a few seconds was mounted on his horse. 

“Don’t move till they come up again,” he whis- 
7 


74 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


pered to his companions; “and then fire righr at 
them till your pistols are exhausted. After that, 
follow my example.” 

Half of Rose’s men started in pursuit of the stam- 
peded animals, and the others cautiously returned to 
the woods. Like statues the fugitives sat then 
horses, with their pistols cocked and pointed in tfte 
direction of their pursuers. On they came, so close 
that Warren could hear their hurried breathing. One 
of the horses moved ; a wild yell announced the dis- 
covery by the nearest of the party, and at random a 
half dozen rifles were discharged in the direction of 
Warren. Between him and the blazing fire he saw 
the advancing figures not ten paces off. He leveled 
and shouted “Fire !” Two of the men fell, and again 
Warren cocked and fired. Bose shouted out, “Git 
out of the light, boys, or we’re gone !” and the men 
rushed back toward the fire. Warren spurred his 
horse into the middle of the road, and shouted: 
“Hurrah for the Union and General Jackson !” 

Then they wheeled their horses, and the spirited 
creatures needed no spur to obey the piessure of the 
knee. Away they flew ; but they were not alone. A 
giant horseman echoed Robert’s shout, and cried. out, 
“ Keep to the left !” Instinctively the horses were 
turned, and the four men dashed past the fire and the 
bewildered pursuers. They were retracing their steps 
on the Marshall road. After riding about a mile, 
Robert reined in his horse to listen for their pursuers. 
The galloping of one horse could Le heard advancing, 
and they determined to wait till he came up. In a 
few seconds the huge horseman drew rein beside them. 

He saluted them with, “Wall, frien’s, that wuz 


TAD— A SAFE HARBOR. It 

purty nice did, wa’nt it ? But keep agoin’ — foller me.” 

Saying this, he dashed ahead, and without a com- 
ment Warren and his friends followed him. About 
half a mile further on, the guide called out, as he 
dashed into the woods to the right, “ Injun file ! Hug 
close to yer saddles !” At a rapid gallop they sped 
through the black jungle, though, from the smoothness 
of the horses’ tread, Warren judged they were riding 
over a beaten path. 

After riding for about two hours, during which not 
a word was spoken, they reached a wide stream, into 
which the guide plunged and the fugitives followed. 
The rrver was fordable, and after ascending the oppo- 
site bank, they saw the light of a cabin a short distance 
ahead. Dismounting before the door, the guide gave 
a peculiar rap, and soon it was opened by what in the 
indistinct light appeared to be a very old man. 

“ Who’s tliar?” he asked. 

“Frien’s to you an’ Grinral Jackson,” was the reply. 

“Why, Tennessee, I’m right glad to see yeh. Come 
in, come in,” said the man at the door. 

“My frien’s wants rest fur the night, Tad, an’ our 
critters are nigh gin out, so I reckon we’d better ten’ 
to them fust.” 

The proprietor of the cabin stepped back, and soon 
reappeared, shading a light, with which he led the 
way to a shed in the rear of his cabin. An abundance 
of fodder was quickly placed in the racks, and the 
jaded animals, divested of their heavy saddles, were 
soon enjoying the strange and welcome hospitality. 

The individual addressed as “Tad” then returned 
with his guests to the cabin. 

“These men is frien’s of we’uns, Tad,” said Ten- 


76 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


nessee, by way of introduction. “ I tuk ’em out of a 
big fuss over on the Shreveport road. They goes in 
strong for Grinral Jackson.” 

“Then,” said Tad, “they’re frien’s o’ mine, sartin. 
Sit down, boys, an’ I’ll gityeh suthin hot in no time.” 

The “boys,” divesting themselves of their arms, 
accepted the invitation of Tad, who started to pre- 
pare the “suthin hot” for his guests. While he is 
doing so, let us take a glance at a man with whom we 
are to be better acquainted — “ Tennessee.” He was 
truly a giant in form, though, unlike most large men, 
there was a flexibility about him which gave a nervous 
appearance to his movements. He was about forty 
years of age, with long, yellowish hair and beard, large, 
innocent-looking blue eyes, and a strong, yet kindly 
expression of the whole face — such a man as children, 
dogs, and horses would approach without fear. While 
Tad was at work, Tennessee sat before the fire stroking 
his long beard and spitting energetically into the heap 
of glowing coals. He looked as innocent as a great 
Newfoundland, yet he was the man on whose judg- 
ment and fidelity the fate of armies subsequently 
depended. 

“ Ho yell know Mr. Anderson ?” asked Tennessee, 
directing his query to Eobert. 

“ I met him this evening, and it was by his advice 
that we left Marshall.” 

“Wall, I know’d him in Austin. An’ I met him 
agin yesterday — it’s after midnight now.” The last 
clause was inserted to justify his saying “yesterday.” 
Then he went on, “We saw them fellers a powwowing 
about yon’uns. Mr. Anderson told me ’twas all a lie 
about yer killen’ any one, only in defense, and he told 


“ SUTHIN HOT.” 


77 


me yeh went in on Ginral Jackson. He says to me, 
‘Tennessee' — they calls me ‘Tennessee’ coz I'm 
from that State — ‘ Tennessee, yeh mus’ go with them 
fellers, if they chase Warren, an’ put them on the 
wrong track, if yeh kin, an’ if yeh can’t, why, do 
what’s right.’ I told him, by thunder I would. I 
wanted to git them out on the Caddo Lake road, but 
Rose ain’t very dull. He ’spected to have a big pull 
if he got yeh.” 

“ But how did you manage to get your horse so as 
to catch up with us, after I loosed the animals ?” 

In reply Tennessee said : “ Thar wuz one hoss yeh 
didn’t loose, cuz I wuz on his back before yeh got near 
the others. I saw yer whole plan to wunst, an’ I 
’spected a devil of a fight, but the whole thing ended 
bully,” and Tennessee closed with a low, chuckling 
laugh. 

Robert told Tennessee of his position by the tree, 
and the conversation which he overheard near the fire, 
which convinced him that Tennessee was a friend. “I 
intended, however, after getting on the road, to give 
my enemies a long chase by keeping to the right.” 

“ That seemed natral, as it wuz the line yeli’ve got 
to take bimeby ; but if yeh had, ye’d a got inter the 
all-firdest trap by runnin’ slap agin’ the crowd coinin’ 
back on the road. But now we ’uns is all liar safe, 
an’ to keep so, we musn’t be liar long.” 

Tad here ended the conversation by handing a tin 
cup to each man, and then filling it with a steam- 
ing potion from a brown earthen pitcher. Tad, who 
was really a younger man than Tennessee, called the 
fluid “hot stuff, mighty good fur the sperrits.” After 
all had drank, with the customary “Good health,” 
7 * 


78 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“Here’s at yeh,” and “How,” Tad proceeded to pre 
pare a bed for his visitors. He took from a rack a 
pile of buffalo and deer skins, and spread them in 
layers till they formed a bed which a prince might 
envy. He then threw an armful to Archy, saying : 
“Take them, ole feller, an’ make yerseT a nest in the 
corner.” 

“Tank yeh, mausser, I reckon I kin sleep like a 
alligator any whar after drinkin’ dat ‘ hot stuff.’ ” 

“ Are you sure, my friend,” asked Gaines, as he 
was about to lie down, “that we are safe here? for 
if so, I will take off my clothes for a good sleep.” 

“ Yer as safe, ole boy, as if yeh wuz in yer own 
mother’s house,” answered Tennessee; and with this 
consoling information, the two fugitives sank to rest, 
while Tennessee and Tad retired to a small room at 
the end of the cabin, from which the sound of heavy 
breating soon came, and peace reigned in the realm 
of danger. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE LAKES. 

In Caddo Parish, in northwestern Louisiana, which 
borders on Texas, there is a large cluster of fresh- 
water lakes and deep bayous, that wind in the most 
tortuous manner through the rich low lands of that 
section. Some of the bayous return again into their 
sources, if such the lakes that receive them can be 
called. 

Along some of the bayous there are many fine cot- 
ton plantations, but the greater portion of the lake 
region is in its primitive state. Wild ducks by thous- 
ands swim in peace on the calm waters, unnoticed by 
the hunter, who watches for the bear, or waits at 
evening by the shores for the watering of the antlered 
buck. Swans by thousands float there undisturbed, and 
from the shallow shores the shrill cry of the heron 
reverberates through the bordering cypress groves. 
There is an air of melancholy, of almost utter loneli- 
ness about these lakes, and the effect is increased by 
the long grey moss which like funeral plumes hangs 
from the trees. There is nothing picturesque, in the or- 
dinary acception of that word, about the Caddo Lakes, 
and the log-like alligators, swimming along the mud- 
dy shores, add not to its beauty. In the hunting 
season, the lake region is a grand resort for those who 


80 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


hunt for a living or sport. Then over its waters floats 
the canoe of the Indian from the north, in its pristine 
simplicity, while the occupant with poised spear 
watches for the rising of the black-fish. Then the 
white trapper, scarcely more elevated than the In- 
dians, frequents the lake to reap a rich and certain 
harvest of pelts. 

Dotted through the lakes are myriads of small 
islands, covered with a dense undergrowth of cane, 
and bounded like the shores with wide-spreading cy- 
press-trees. But few of the islands have been trod- 
den by the foot of man. Often, when the Red River, 
into which the lakes empty, is flooded, the water 
backs into the lakes, and the islands are submerged 
to the depth of eight or ten feet. After the flood 
subsides, the vegetable growth on the rich alluvial 
deposit is truly wonderful. In the months of Sep- 
tember and October immense flocks of birds frequent 
the islands to feed on the luscious mustang grapes 
which hang in great bunches from the prolific vines. 

The sun had risen on the morning after the arrival 
of the fugutives at Tad’s. That individual was up 
first, and attended to the horses. Then he returned 
and awoke Archy, who immediately started the fire, 
and of his own accord began to prepare the materials 
for breakfast. The noise soon roused the others, and 
they rose refreshed from their soft, warm couches. 
After the morning salutations had passed, Tennessee 
laid down the plan for the next move of the fugutives 
in this wise : 

“ When we’ve had suthin’ to eat, we mus’ go to the 
island an’ lay low till them whelps at Marshall has 
stopped barkin’. ’ 


PRECAUTIONS. 


8] 


4 Where is the island, and what sort of a place is 
r\ ** asked Warren. 

“Wail/ replied Tennessee, “ ’taint much of a place 
ter brag on. It’s over in Cadder Lake, ’bout six 
mile from liar. I’ve got a shanty over thar, that I 
use in fisnur season. It’s right dry sile, and thar’s 
lots of feed fur the critters aroun’ it at this time.” 

“But hew are we to get over the lake to the isl- 
ands?” askevi Warren, with wondering eyes. 

“ Oh ! the water is shaller ; we kin wade over on 
the critters. We’ve got to go thar, kase its the only 
safe place. £f we sjays har, they’ll cotch us, sartin, 
and then 1 wouldn’t give a chaw of terbaccy for all 
on us. Over on the island no one never comes, ’cept 
roysel’. They doesn’t dream thar’s anything thar. 
When you ’unb have staid a few days, an’ all is quiet, 
J’ll come an’ start yeh on a clar’ road.” 

Both Robert and Gaines determined to place the ut- 
most reliance in their guide, and told him they would 
do whatever he thought best in the matter. 

In the meantime, Archy had shown his director 
that he needed no information on the subject of cook- 
ing, for he piled upon the plates which Tad had set 
savory heaps of venison steak, fried yams, and boiled 
black-fish, besides prepaiing an abundance of aromatic 
coffee, that would not disgrace a Parisian restaurant. 
While the four white men were eating, Archy kept 
their plates covered with an abundance of corn cakes, 
light and hot from the griddle. After Archy had 
eaten his breakfast, he went out with Tennessee and 
Tad to saddle the horses, leaving Robert and Gaines 
alone. 

“ I’m afraid,” said Gaines, “ this is only the begin- 


P2 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


ning of our troubles. If we ever get to Kentucky, 
it will be after much trouble.” 

“ We may have a rough time, Gaines, but we will 
get there all right, depend on it ; and then we will 
laugh at these scrapes we are passing through. Think 
of what fun we will have, in days to come, when you 
come to see me and Mrs. Warren, and we tell our 
wondering wives of the adventures we had bringing 
the flag back to the Brazos, and, I might add, taking 
ourselves away.” 

Gaines could not help laughing at Robert's pic- 
ture ; but his despondency soon returned, and he 
repeated his old sentiment, that principle, not hope, 
induced him to keep on. 

The conversation was stopped, as Archy approached, 
leading the horses. 

“Mauss Robut, de hosses is fuss rate dis mornin'. 
Don is skeery as a colt, an' Senor is full ob pitch as 
a new mustang.” 

“ And how do you feel, Archy?” 

“ I feel, Mauss Robut, as if de good Lor’ held us 
in de holler ob his hand, an' was a watchin’ bellin' 
de clouds, sayin’, ‘I'le keer for yell.’ ” 

“There, Gaines, if you want any consolation, con- 
sult Archy, he is always ready.” 

“ Yes, Archy has always a consolation.” 

Tennessee and Tad here interrupted the conversa- 
tion, as they appeared with two bags filled with meat, 
coffee, meal, and other necessaries ; besides this, Tad 
strapped two buffalo robes to the saddles of his guests, 
and begged them to let Tennessee know if they wanted 
anything else he had, after they got to the island, 
and he would send it to them at once. 


ON THE ISLAND. 


83 


Robert thanked Tad heartily for his kindness, and 
offered to pay him, but the generous fellow would not 
listen to it, so, bidding him good-bye, they mounted 
their horses and followed Tad to the lake. 

After on hour’s riding they reached the cane-brake 
along the shore, and pushing through, they were soon 
wading between the cypress trees that grow up for 
some distance in the lake. The water grew deeper 
till it covered the back of Tennessee’s mustang, but 
the hardy little creature, with an ambition that would 
do credit to a larger horse, pushed boldly in the 
advance. After wading for an hour, they passed 
through the cypress trees, and came to the margin of 
the island, and entered an open field of deep rich 
grass. On the farther side of the field was the log 
cabin of Tennessee, which was soon reached, and the 
animals permitted to roll on the grass. 

“This yer’s not jista beautiful place,” said Tennes- 
see, “but ye’ll find plenty fur the critters, an’ yeh kin 
live on yer rifles like Cherokee chiefs. After I get 
yeh fixed, I’m goin’ back ter Marshall and fine out 
what that cuss, Rose, is a doin’. I mayn’t be back for 
two days. I’ve got to see my ole woman an’ the 
young un’s, so’s to get ’em ready to live alone in case 
I’ve got to clar out, which I don’t keer to do, ’less it 
gits dangerous.” 

On entering the cabin they found it more comfort- 
able than its outside appearance indicated. The 
walls were chinked and the floor was made of rough- 
hewn, closely-fitted cypress slabs. In the walls great 
pegs were driven, from which hung the fishing tackle 
and hunting traps of Tennessee. A huge fire-place 
occupied one end of the shanty, on the hearth of 


84 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


which Archy had soon a blazing fire. A few primi- 
tive cooking utensils were pointed out by Tennessee* 
and after telling them where to procure water and the 
best points for game, he resaddled his mustang, and 
giving each a warm grasp of the hand, repeated his 
pledge to return. Then, slinging his rifle over his 
shoulder, he sprang into the saddle, and was soon lost 
to sight ’mid the cane-brake and the cypress groves. 


CHAPTER IX. 


TAD'S cabin burned. 

As Tennessee rode away from the island, the full 
danger of his position dawned upon him. Before this 
adventure, the secessionists of Marshall had looked 
upon him with suspicion ; now their suspicions would 
be confirmed, and their hate increased. He must get 
away as soon as possble, for to remain now would be 
to seek death. Of course he would have to see his 
wife and children. He lived in a thickly-settled part 
of the town, and could not get home without being 
seen. Bose was watching for him, no doubt. He 
knew Bose was afraid of him ; but he had lots of 
backing. It might be best to send Tad into Marshall 
and acquaint his wife with his determination to start 
for Tennessee. There was no use in getting into dan- 
ger without a show, though it would be gratifying to 
take a shot at that scoundrel, Bose. 

Acting on the wisest suggestion that came to his 
mind, Tennessee retraced his trail to Tad’s cabin, 
which he reached early in the afternoon ; that is, he 
reached the place where Tad’s cabin had been that 
morning. The still smoldering ruins told the fate of 
the place. Not a log of the cabin or shed or fence 
was left to tell there had once been a hospitable little 


86 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


home there. There were blood marks on the ground 
leading to the river. Tennessee, with a beating heart, 
traced them to the water’s edge, and found lodged 
against a snag the body of Bose’s horse. Tad had 
fought, that was certain. He must have seen the 
enemy before they crossed the river, and given fight. 
Tad could do that, but what was the noble fellow’s 
fate ? Tennessee refused to answer the question he 
had raised, but he hoped the best, for if coolness, 
courage, strength, swiftness of foot, and a knowledge 
of the country would avail, Tad would turn up all 
right. 

Tennessee turned away from the ruin, and crossing 
the river at another point, he plunged into the woods, 
and, with no trail to guide him, he struck a bee-line 
for Marshall. Before dark he rested in a strip of woods 
within sight of the town, and examined and reloaded 
his arms. He took off bis long boots, replacing them 
with a pair of moccasins, then fastened a buckskin 
band around his head, and threw his heavy flaxen hair 
behind his ears. 

“ Gus, ole boy,” he said kindly, addressing his horse, 
“ I reckon yell’ll have to stay here alone. Maybe I 
won’t see yeh no more, an’ maybe yeh’ll have ter do 
some tall, runnin’ to-night. But yer a good ole fel, 
sartin. Thar’s no better hoss in these diggins than 
you, Gus.” This was said while taking off the saddle 
and bridle. “Graze roun’ here till to-night, an’ if 
I don’t come back afore mornin’, Gus, yer a free nig- 
ger. Thar, go J” 

Gus walked off a few steps, lay down against a lit- 
tle knoll, as horses always do, and tried to roll up it. 
lie made several able but unsuccessful attempts, then 


TENNESSEE OVERPOWERED. 


SI 


giving the job up as impracticable, lie soon shook 
himself, rubbed his nose against his master’s arm, 
and, like a sensible horse, went to feeding. 

Placing his equipments where he could find them 
readily, under cover of the darkness, Tennessee, with 
the cautious step of a deer stalker, walked toward the 
town. He was within ten yards of his own little 
house, so far unobserved, and his heart began to 
throb with anxiety. Suddenly a number of men 
sprang to their feet around him with savage yells, 
while high above all the voice of Hose was heard 
shouting — 

“ Thar he is, cuss him ! Shoot him ! cut him to 
pieces !” 

Tennessee struck the nearest man to him to the 
ground with his clubbed rifle, and the others fell back 
before a second sweep. 

“ Don’t fire boys, don’t fire !” said Hose, it’ll bring 
the rest of the pack here ef yeh do. We can finish 
him without much noise.” 

“Wall now, Hose,” said Tennessee, “ if you an’ the 
allfired skunks aroun’ yeh think they’re agoin’ to 
chaw me up without a fuss, yeh ain’t much on the 
calculate. By the ghost of General Jackson, if you 
’uns come one at a time, I’ll fight the whole on yeh.” 

Tennessee loosed the flaps of the pistols in his belt 
and drew himself up to his full height. He had not 
long to wait, for in a body the whole gang rushed 
upon him with uplifted weapons and horrible oaths. 
Tennessee fired his pistols, and then clubbed his rifle, 
and they gave way before it. He heard a cheer in 
the distance and was nerved, for he felt friends near 
at hand. He tried to get back to the house, but a 


88 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


powerful blow from behind, and a shot from the front, 
brought him senseless to the ground. His death 
would have been certain and instant had not the 
sound of the fight brought out a woman, who bore in 
her hand a hatchet. She rushed to the place where 
the fallen man lay bleeding, and with a terrible blow 
felled Rose to the ground, and then standing over 
the body of Tennessee, she shouted her hate and de- 
fiance of the cowards who had tried to kill her hus- 
band. 

The arrival of a large body of more peacefully in- 
clined citizens stopped further bloodshed, though, to 
appease the anger of the mob, as well as to satisfy the 
apparent justice of the charge that Tennessee had 
killed a man the previous evening, he was carefully 
guarded to prison, notwithstanding there was no 
necessity of guarding an unconscious man who had to 
be carried to the jail. 

Tennessee’s wife begged to stay with her husband, 
but her prayers were unheeded, and the body was 
thrown into a dark cell, and the door locked. 

Next morning Tennessee awoke as if from a terrible 
dream. His clothing was fastened to the floor with his 
clotted blood. His head seemed bursting with pain, and 
his hair was stiff, and sore to the touch. One arm was 
swollen and powerless, and a burning thirst seemed to 
consume him. He could not rise, and while he lay 
trying to recollect his thoughts, and the incidents of 
the previous evening, a man came in with some bread 
and water, and promised to bring a doctor to see the 
prisoner in the course of the morning. After taking 
a long cooling drink, Tennessee felt stronger, and sit- 
ting up he poured the rest of the water on his head 


THE CAPTIVE IN PRISON. 


89 


and face, and it gave him new strength. He rose and 
struggled to the little window, through the iron bars 
of which the dim grey light shone, and the damp 
chilling wind blew. 

He looked out, and in an instant he seemed to grow 
faint, and with his sound arm he clutched at a bar for 
support. 

“My God!” he cried in a voice of intense agony, 
“ Its rainin’, its rainin’ ! Oh the flood, the flood, an’ 
the island !” 

He felt a swimming sensation in his head, and fell 
fainting to the floor. 

His cry brought in the jailor, and with the assist- 
ance of a kind-hearted doctor, who arrived shortly 
after, Tennessee’s bruises were washed, and he was 
restored to consciousness. He had hardly opened his 
eyes, when he asked : 

“Has the rain stopped, or is it rainin’, or is it my 
head ?” 

“It is raining, Tennessee,” said the jailor. “I 
reckon we’re in for the flood, sure enough.” 

The wounded man sprang to his feet, and looked 
out through the bars, and he saw the rain coming 
down in torrents, and heard it beating against the 
prison wall. His face was deathly pale, and he turned 
to the jailor. 

“Mr. Roberts, for God’s sake let me out for eight 
hours, an’ I’ll come back, and let yell hang me, if yell 
want ter. Let me out ! Thar’s three men on an island 
in the lakes ; I took them thar. Oh, God ! let me 
out, or they’ll be drownded ! Roberts, let me go ! I’ll 
keep my word, true as Heaven. I’ll come back.” 

“I can’t let you go, Tennessee. It ain’t in my 
8 * 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


&0 

power. And if the three men are those fellers that 
Rose chased, why, if they’re drowned, it’ll save their 
bein’ hanged.” 

“You must let me go. By the eternal, ten thousand 
men can’t keep me back J” 

Tennessee’s eyes glowed as he sprang to the door. 
Roberts tried to stop him, but he rushed past him. 
The doctor fled at the first sight of Tennessee’s eyes, 
and called loudly for help. Tennessee got down to the 
yard. He saw a man before him with a gun, and he 
heard him cry, “Stop !” but did not heed him. His 
wound started bleeding, the blood blinded him, and 
as he rushed madly for the gate, the guard struck 
him, and he fell. 

When Tennessee recovered he was back in his cell, 
with chains upon his legs, and a man standing at the 
cell door with a gun in his hand. He rose and looked 
out. The rain was still pouring down as if it would 
never cease. There he stood for hours, and every 
drop against the bars sunk into his heart like molten 
iron. He felt the room growing hot, and the veins in his 
neck swelling. He opened his shirt collar, and gasped 
for breath. Then he seized the bar again and ,shook 
it. It seemed loose, and a thrill of joy ran through 
him, as, with a madman’s strength, he tore it from its 
socket, and then seized another ; but before he could 
do more, he was seized from behind, and his hands 
fastened to the chain which bound his legs. He sat 
on the floor listening to the cruel rain against the 
bars, and muttering, “The flood, the flood !” 

Night came, and still the chained man sat on the 
floor, and the armed man watched outside the cell. 

“I’m not a traitor. I didn’t deceive yell ; ’fore 


TENNESSEE CONDEMNED. 


91 


God, I meant to help yeh.” Tennessee was raving. 
“Don’t cuss me so. I’d die to save yeh. I’d let the 
wolves eat my heart out if I could get yeh off! I 
see the water is gittin’ higher. It’s up to yer throats, 
and the island’s flooded ! Thar, the hosses is swim- 
min’ , an’ the men’s holdin onter the shanty logs ! 
How dark it is ! - They can’t stan’ that long. Oh, 
God, let me die now, so I kin tell ’em up thar it 
wasn’t my blame !” 

The strong man groaned and swayed himself on 
the floor. His mutterings grew 7 less distinct as the 
night waned. He imagined he saw the alligators 
eating the bodies of the fugitives, and the buzzards 
perched on the dead horses. 

Tennessee suffered with a brain fever and his wounds 
for three w r eeks. When he recovered he was but a 
shadow of his former self. His beard and hair had 
been cut off, his blue eyes w^ere sunken in his head, 
and his sallow skin was drawn like parchment over 
his once powerful frame. 

After he w r as restored to consciousness, his w ife and 
children w 7 ere permitted to see him, and at their first 
interview even the jailor, whose heart was not the 
tenderest, was melted to tears. Tennessee’s wife w r as 
permitted to visit him every day, till he got strong 
enough for trial ; and that judicial farce was the same 
in the case of Tennessee as in that of hundreds who 
were sacrificed that spring in Texas. 

Six others were tried with him, accused of every 
crime, and found guilty of but one — treason to the 
confederacy. People grew as familiar with the sen- 
tence of death as in the reign of terror in France. 

Many of those condemned at Marshall, as in other 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


92 

parts of Texas, died with their own hands, rather 
than be executed on the gallows. Tennessee’s wife, 
who was permitted to see her husband the day after 
his sentence, and two days before the time set apart 
for his execution, proposed to bring him laudanum, 
thinking, in heart, it would be better for her husband 
to die by his own hands ; but the brave fellow replied : 

“ Bet, yeh means right, I know ; and I’m sure, ole 
gal, yeh’d peg out yersel’ to save me ; but I can’t do 
this.” 

‘•Yes, Jim, I’d give my heart’s blood to keep yeh 
livin’ a day, for God knows what I’ll do when yeh’re 
gone. But others do it, Jim ; an’ I don’t want the 
young un’s, when they grow up, to have it said their 
dad wuz hung,” said Tennessee’s wife. 

“You bet,” replied Tennessee, “and I don’t want 
it cas’ up ter the young ’uns that their dad wuz a cow- 
ard. I know, Bet, other fel’s have tuk laudnum, but . 
d — d if it ain’t a sneakin’ way of gittin’ rid of 
trouble. Then, Bet, I want yeh to keep the young 
’uns posted about another worl’. I’ve thought rite 
smart ’bout it uv late, an’ if I’ve got ter die, fact is, 

I don’t want the Great Mausser to boost me fur killin’ 
myseF.” 

Bet held down her head and clasped her strong, 
coarse hands before her, but uttered no groan or sob. 
For several minutes there was a solemn silence in the 
condemned man’s cell ; then slowly she raised her 
head, and locking into her husband’s eyes with a wild 
earnestness, she said in a strong whisper : 

“Jim, ain’t it wuth while ter try gittin’ off? Yeh 
know yeh did that once when the ’Bapahoes had jest 
got ready to kill yeh.” 


A GLEAM OF HOPE. 


93 


“Now, ole woman, yer head's gittin’ level," said 
Tennessee, with a genuine smile. “ That's the idea. 
Why, yeh knows, Bet, I ain’t one of them fellers as 
jist gins out. When I git like that, yeh may bet yer 
pile thar wont be no use try in’." 

“Wall, Jim, I wuz a loon not ter see that. Now, 
have yeh any plan, an’ kin I help yeh? Say yes, an’ 
don’t count my risk." 

“Wall, I reckon yeh kin do purty near all. Yeh 
got my saddle an’ things all right, an’ foun’ Gus?” 

“ Yes." 

“Wall, that’s good. Now, Sam Baker an’ Joe 
Thompson an’ me has things fixed to bust this shanty 
to-morrow night, ’bout twelve. I’ll git out, or die 
try in’, that’s fixed. Now, Bet, yeh mus’ have Gus an’ 
all my traps, rifle and knife, at Biller’s Bun. An’ yeh 
mus’ git two more hosses. Tell Alick Taylor all ’bout 
it, an’ he’ll help yeh. An’, ole gal, hang on thar till 
day, if I don’t come." 

Bet promised to do this, and was about to leave, as 
the jailor appeared, when she asked Tennessee if she 
could do anything more for him : “Yes, Bet, ole gal, 
as I’ve only short time to live, bring the young ’tins to 
see me to-morrow — little Bet, and the Ginral, and Cap 
May. The young un’s are hard to beat, Bet ; an’ I 
want the boys to see -'their father ain’t a coward." 


CHAPTER X. 


ON THE ISLAND. 

In this story there is no plot ; it proposes to be sim- 
ply a narrative of a genuine hero, well known to the 
writer. But it is found necessary, in order to keep 
before the reader those persons in whom he or she 
may be interested, to vary the chapters by giving the 
cotemporaneous incidents in the life of each at this 
time. 

After Tennessee had left the island, the fugitives 
for a time were interested in the novelty of their sit- 
uation, and they were busy in their efforts to make 
the cabin as comfortable as possible. Archy had a 
born genius for cooking and making a few simple ar- 
ticles of food seem a bountiful variety. While Rob- 
ert and Gaines were fixing places for their beds, and 
cleaning their arms, a dinner was being prepared in 
keeping with the keen appetites of all. 

After dinner, Robert and Gaines wrote letters to 
the dear ones at home ; not that there appeared to be 
at the time the faintest hope of their ever reaching 
those for whom they were penned — indeed, both men 
felt very sure the letters would never be mailed — yet, 
on the gloomy island, shut out from the world, the 
impulse to write was strong. There are times in every 


THE INPENDING STORM. 


95 


life when the heart is full of joy or sorrow, and when 
the whispering of our feelings to a friendly ear, or the 
penning of them to a distant friend, eases the burdened 
soul. Though friends may not hear us, it is a pleas- 
ure to whisper to ourselves what we would say were 
they near ; and though they never read what may be 
written, it rests the heart to write what we would have 
them read. 

Toward evening Eobert and Gaines shouldered their 
rifles, and leaving Archy to watch the horses, they 
strolled to the point where Tennessee thought they 
might find game. They were successful in killing a 
number of ducks and other birds, and in obtaining a 
better knowledge of the island. At its highest point 
it was not four feet above the present lake level, and 
a slight rise in the waters would not only submerge 
the island, but also the opposite shores of the lake, 
equally flat, and convert two hundred square miles of 
country, ordinarily dry, into a shallow, muddy lake, 
across which no animal could wade. Eobert Warren 
felt the danger of his position, and at the same time 
he did not blame himself for being there, nor doubt 
for an instant the fidelity of Tennessee. 

Gaines appeared cast down, and as they returned to 
the cabin his eyes w r ere often raised to the sky, over 
which clouds, black and threatening, began to gather. 
Entering the cabin they found Archy singing and 
cheerfully preparing the evening meal. 

By 8 o’clock it was pitchy dark, and a low, wailing 
sound came down from the cypress boughs. Eobert 
opened the door, and taking a torch went out to see 
if the horses were all right, for they had been tramp* 
ing restlessly, and tugging at their lariats. By the 


90 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


dim light of the torch he could see the cypress boughs 
above the cabin waving, although no air appeared to 
be stirring, and the long, grey moss, pendent from the 
branches, swayed back and forth like weird plumes. 
The dismal effect was increased as at times the shrill 
scream of a heron came up from the gloomy shores. 
Robert returned to the cabin, where a huge fire was 
burning, before which Gaines and Archy were silently 
sitting. Taking a seat between them, he assumed a 
cheerful tone, and said : 

“We ought to be thankful for having shelter over 
our heads to-night, for we will have a gulf squall, 
which won't last long, but they are unpleasant to be 
out in, nevertheless." 

“I don't like our position, Robert,” said Gaines, 
raising his head from between his hands. “ This is 
the flood season, and the waters may rise at any hour. 
Supposing we were to perish on this island, who would 
ever know the fact, beyond the man who brought us 
here, or his partner, Tad ?” 

“ Mauss Andy, said Archy, ceasing to make figures 
in the ashes with the wooden poker, “de good Lor' 
would know it. He watches ober us, an' will protec* 
us wid Ilis mighty arms. An' I don’t tink, nohow, He 
fotched us liar to be drownded.” 

“That may be, Archy,” replied Gaines, “but God 
has often seen fit to place better men in worse positions.” 

“ Yes, Mauss Andy, an’ He fotched de chillen from 
de nery furnace, jes' as if tliar'd been no fiah thar.” 

“ Well, Archy, I think it will require a similar mir- 
acle to save us.” 

Robert started up and again looked out, remarking 
as he did : 


NEARER AND NEARER. 


97 

“I don’t think that man Tennessee would have 
brought us here if there were any immediate danger 
from the flood. He knows the country, and he is not 
so far distant that he could not return in a few hours, 
if he thought we were not safe.” 

As Robert gazed out his words for the moment fal- 
sified his fears. 

“That man may be honest, Robert,” said G-aines, 
“ and he may not. If a scoundrel, why has he trapped 
us? and we are as safely caged as if ten thousand 
men were guarding us.” 

“Well, Gaines, all that is possible,” said Robert, 
“and if true, that man Tennessee is a paradox, and 
I cannot conceive such a contradiction.” Then with 
more emphasis he continued, “I will not permit my- 
self to believe it ; even though we perish on this 
island, I will still believe Tennessee faithful to us.” 

“Nebev yeh feah, Mauss Robut, we’se a cornin’ 
out right. Why, Mauss Tennessee’ll come back 
bimeby, an’ larf at us fur ’spectin’ him.” 

Again the three men gathered around the fire, 
while louder and louder came the wailing from the 
cypress boughs, and at times a pattering could be 
heard on the clap-boards overhead, and the restless 
tramping of the horses outside. Archy broke the 
silence in the cabin by singing in a voice of peculiar 
sweetness one of those religious songs so often heard 
among the negroes on southern plantations. When 
he had finished, the two white men rose and together 
stretched themselves on the bed they had prepared 
in the corner, and despite the screeching of the winds 
they were soon sleeping soundly. 

Archy still sat by the fire, resting his face between 
9 


08 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


his hands, and thinking of the little cabin far away 
in Gonzelletta. His lips moved as if praying, and at 
times the words came in whispers, “Heah de prayer, 
Lor*, heah de prayer ! Oh, sabe Mauss Robut ! Good 
Lor*, sabe him.” So till midnight he sat ; till the 
winds grew hoarse with their wailing and roared in 
anger around the cabin. Archy was about to lie 
down, but suddenly the wind stopped as if for rest. 
The sleepers grew restless under the stillness, and 
outside the horses crowded together as if to shelter 
each other from the coming storm. So it continued 
for some twenty minutes. Then came a rushing 
sound, louder and louder. It rose like a prelude to 
nature’s grandest opera, the coming storm. A flash 
lit up the cabin for an instant ; then, as if a signal to 
commence, a sharp, stirring report belched out. A 
moment, and along the sky ran the rattle as if from 
lines of giant musketry. Deeper and thicker came 
the firing ; but it seemed like a skirmish line com- 
pared to the deep reverberations that followed. The 
thunder ceased. Then came a gust of wind that 
shook the cabin — an instant of ominous stillness — a 
rushing sound — then down in torrents poured the 
loosened waters. 

The sleepers started wildly up. Gaines’s face was 
the picture of terror, and Warren’s thin lips were 
pale and compressed. Robert opened the door and 
looked out in the direction of the horses. It was 
but for an instant ; then with all his strength he 
pushed it to, and fastened it with a peg, while a 
shudder ran through him. 

“This is terrible,’* he said, as he pulled on his 
boots, and directed Archy to throw some wood on the 


THE TEMPEST ON. 


99 


fire. The additional fuel was of no avail. Through 
the wide-topped chimney the rain came down, and 
soon extinguished the fire and filled the darkened 
cabin with steam. Here and there a pattering could 
be heard on the floor, where the water came through 
the frail roof. The three men crept close together, 
and anxiously waited for the tardy light. 

It is said that in the afternoon at Waterloo, when 
the sweeping masses of the French went surging 
around and grinding down the stubborn squares of 
“England’s Iron Duke,” he often looked up at the 
slow sun, and prayed it might go down, or Blucher 
come to the rescue. With as much anxiety did Rob- 
ert Warren count the slow, black minutes, and pray 
for the breaking of day or the ceasing of the storm. 

Morning at last dawned, but brought with it no 
cessation of the rain. The cabin was leaking at 
every seam, and every article in it was soaked with 
water. The Mexican blankets of the fugitives kept 
them dry in part. They had no food cooked, and no 
means of cooking any, which fact did not add to the 
comfort of their situation. 

“We must leave this place immediately,” said 
Robert. “If we are to go down, we must do so re- 
sisting fate.” 

“Mus’ I saddle up at once, Mauss Robert?” asked 
Archy, anticipating his master’s order. 

“Yes, as quickly as you can. Mr. Gaines and I 
will bundle up the traps inside.” Turning to Gaines, 
Robert asked if he thought he could retrace his 
course of the previous day across the lake. 

“No, I cannot,” said Gaines, “for I did not look 
back to notice, when we reached this side, a landmark.” 


100 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“Well, I did,” said Robert, “and I think I can 
make the exact point on the opposite shore where we 
entered the lake.” 

In a short time the horses were ready, and the men 
were riding away from the cabin. The island had 
become so thoroughly soaked that the horses sank to 
their knees at every step, and stumbled through mud- 
holes that would have swamped less spirited animals. 
They passed through the margin of the canebrake, 
and, with Robert ahead, they were soon wading among 
the cypress trees, and steering clear of the floating 
logs that beset their course. They had gone about - 
five hundred yards, beyond the tree line, when sud- 
denly Robert’s horse descended, and with wild 
struggles was plunging through the deep water. Be- 
fore him for two miles stretched the lake, too deep to 
wade and too wide to swim. To attempt it would be 
madness, so he turned his horse and shouted, “ Get 
back ! get back ! We can’t make it.” And back to 
the cabin they retraced their steps. 

They took the horses inside with them, and all day 
.they stood praying for the rain to cease, but with a 
steady fury it continued, and a second cheerless night 
came to the fugitives. 

Slowly the hours rolled by, bringing no abatement 
to the storm. A second morning struggled through 
the gloom, and disclosed the flood sweeping around 
the cabin, and the green field converted into a turbid 
lake. 

“What shall we do?” asked Gaines in a tremulous 
voice, after they had surveyed their position in silence. 

“We must do,” replied Robert, “what you and I 
have often done before on the Brazos — make a raft. 


A PLAN TO ESCAPE 


101 


There is plenty of material here. We can construct 
one to float ourselves and hold up the horses’ heads, 
in case they give out.’ ’ 

“That may be. But, Bobert, where can we go to? 
The whole country is flooded. The horses are too 
much exhausted to swim far, and we are too nearly 
played out to do much controlling of the raft.” 

“ That is all true, Gaines, but it is our only plan. If 
the horses die, we can cut them loose ; and if we get 
too much exhausted to work the raft, we must trust to 
Providence and the current to take us somewhere in 
safety.” 

There was no objection to this plan, so the men 
were soon at work on the raft. 

They tore down the cabin, and with Tennessee’s 
seine ropes fastened the logs together. They then 
tore up the floor and nailed the cypress slabs com- 
posing it over the logs. Three stakes were fastened, 
about two feet apart, at the end of the raft, to which 
they could attach the horses. After preparing the 
raft and placing all their equipments on it, Archy 
waded out to the timber and cut a couple of long 
poles with which to guide the raft. 

Everything being ready, the horses were made fast, 
and the three men sat down on the raft to wait for a 
greater depth of water to float them. By noon the 
water was sufficiently high, and the raft was guided 
out to the canebrake. Through the cypress trees 
they floated, and as the water deepened the ropes by 
which the horses were fastened were made shorter. 
Out further, and the horses were beyond their depth, 
and with explosive breathings and dilated nostrils 
they swam close to the raft, as if they would force 


102 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


themselves on it. The poles, however, still touched 
bottom, and Robert and his servant used them while 
Gaines kept the horses close to the raft and attended 
to their fastenings. 

They floated with the open lake, the rain still pour- 
ing down, and night approaching. The poles no 
longer touched bottom ; they used them for paddles, 
and the distant shore seemed washing away before 
them. The exertions of the horses lessened, and 
Gaines’s, without an effort, permitted himself to be 
towed behind. Slowly they moved, quickly the light 
lessened, and a third black, dreary night came to the 
famishing men, to increase the horror of their situa- 
tion. 

It might have been two hours after the darkness 
came — it seemed an age — when the raft struck against 
a tree, then slowly swung past. Another and another 
bump, and they were going through the cypress trees, 
that should denote a neighboring shore. A short 
distance further and they felt the raft moving over 
masses of yielding cane. The men at the poles 
worked with renewed strength. Two of the horses 
with labored efforts waded behind. The raft struck 
some soft substance with a dull thug. Archy turned 
and drove his pole into a bank of clay, and with a 
shout of joy he called out : 

“Bress de good Lor’ ! Bress Heaven, we’s saved !” 

Jumping on shore he quickly made fast the raft, 
while Robert and Gaines unfastened the horses. Two 
of them staggered up the bank, but the wiry mustang 
of Gaines, which had borne him so often and faith- 
fully on the southern prairies, sank cold and dead 
when they loosed his rope. 


CHAPTER XI. 


SAVED, AND YET LOST. 

The breeding of a horse is tested, not by momen- 
tary strength or swiftness, but by the power of endur- 
ance. The thorough-breds of Warren and his servant 
lived where other horses would have died. The ex- 
pressions of love which Archy lavished on the noble 
creatures, as they stood on the muddy bank, the wa- 
ter dripping from their sleek sides, showed how he 
appreciated their efforts, and what a loss their death 
would have been to him. 

After resting the horses a short time, and making 
the raft fast so that they might return to it if neces- 
sary, they strapped their saddle-bags, with Gaines’s 
equipments, on the two animals, and started out 
through the darkness. The men were thoroughly ex- 
hausted, but there was no place for rest. They were 
as ignorant of their whereabouts as if they had been 
suddenly dropped on an unknown planet. They might 
be running into the very jaws of danger, but even 
that w r as preferable to the horrors of the lake. • 
Through the dark woods and the damp pendent moss, 
over logs and under vines they walked, straining their 
eyes through the darkness, hoping for a light. They 
had struggled on in this way for some time, when sud 


104 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


denly they ran against a fence, and this unex- 
pected obstacle was hailed with delight. Letting it 
down, they entered a newly-plowed field, and after 
rising a slight ascent a few hundred yards beyond, 
their eyes were gladdened by the faint glimmering of 
a distant light. They pushed on, their weary limbs 
infused with a new strength, and in a short time 
reached another fence, which they let down, taking 
care to put it up after passing through. A little dis- 
tance beyond they found that the light came from one 
of an extensive group of negro cabins. Robert rap- 
ped at the door, and on its being opened he found a 
sick black man lying in one corner, with a doctor in 
attendance, whose large, frank face bespoke a gener- 
ous heart. 

To him they made known their condition ; they had 
lost their way; they were wet, cold, and hungry, and 
wanted food and rest. Never did a stranger make 
such an appeal to a southern man without meeting 
with a warm response. 

The doctor told them they were at Bastrop’s plan- 
tation, three miles and a half from the lake, and 
northwest of Shreveport. 

“ I supposed that was our location as we passed 
Shreveport,” said Robert ; “but I must say, I cannot 
place myself with relation to Marshall.” 

“Why,” said the doctor in surprise, “you w 7 ere not 
surely going to Marshall ? Is is forty miles from here 
'as the crow flies, and in the present condition of the 
roads you would have to go over twice that distance 
to reach it.” 

“No, I left Marshall some days ago, and after 
passing Shreveport I pushed out on the Monroe road. 


TRUE SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY. 


105 


I hoped to reach some tavern by dark, but so far 
without success. Important business calls me to 
Kentucky, and I am anxious to push through as fast 
as possible.” 

“Well, you are but a short distance off the direct 
road. But let us go to the house ; Mr. Bastrop has 
not yet retired, and I can say for him that he will be 
right glad to see you, and extend to you his hospi- 
tality.” 

On reaching the house they found that the family 
had not yet retired. Mr. Bastrop, an elderly and 
somewhat pompous man, with a fine form and a ge- 
nial face, received the strangers with marked kind- 
ness. He gave directions, even before he learned 
the condition of the fugitives, to have their horses 
attended to and supper prepared. Nor did the 
thoughtful gentleman forget Archy, for, seeing that 
the black man looked fatigued, he ordered a servant 
to take change of him, and see that he had food and 
rest. Then accompanying Kobert and Gaines to a 
room, he provided them with dry clothing, and after 
a refreshing wash, the two men returned to the sup- 
per room, where they found a warm meal awaiting 
them. 

Mr. Bastrop, after Bobert had given him a short, 
but by no means inaccurate account of the circum- 
stances that led them to his house, evidenced a desire 
to talk, but noticing the really exhausted condition 
of his guests, he turned to the doctor and said : 

“Our friends are weary, I see. Now, doctor, I am 
sure they need prescribing for ; I will have them shown 
to their rooms and we can consult over their cases 
alone.*' 


106 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Lights were quickly provided, and Robert and 
Gaines followed the servant to their comfortable beds. 
It was a luxury, after sixty hours of work, and wet, 
and hunger, and anxiety, to lie down between clean 
sheets, on a soft bed, and listen without a dread to 
the patter, patter, patter, of the ceaseless rain which 
a few hours before sounded like a death-call. 

Robert straightened out in the bed and gave a great 
sigh of relief, at the same time that a servant knocked 
at the door, and being told to “ come in,” he entered 
bearing a small silver waiter, around which hovered 
a vail-like vapor, and a delicious aroma. There was , 
a glass with a spoon in it, and sundry yellow particles 
floating on the surface. 

“ Mausser,” said the servant, showing his white 
teeth, “Mauss Jack an de doctah sends dis wid dere 
compelments, an says it am de medicine, an’ it ain’t 
no good ’cept yell drink it hot.” 

Robert raised the glass and took a long draught. 
There was something about the taste not unlike Tad’s 
suthin hot,” only in a more refined way. The med- 
icine was taken. Robert drew the warm covering 
around him ; a gentle perspiration broke from every 
pore, and deep, refreshing sleep came to make him 
forgetful of his lately perilous situation. 

How long he would have slept is doubtful had not 
a servant awoke him about daylight, and, according 
to the charming custom of the country, presented 
him a cup of delicious coffee. He drank it, and a 
soft, dreamy sleep followed, that lasted till nine o’clock. 

Robert rose of his own accord, feeling like a new 
man, and on descending he found breakfast waiting 
him. Gaines was still asleep, and Mr. Bastrop, in 


HAPPY DISCOVERY. 


107 


answer to Robert’s suggestion to wake him, said, 
“No ; the poor fellow is tired ; let him sleep as long 
as he chooses.” 

Mr. Bastrop then introduced Robert to his wife and 
daughters, and proceeded to breakfast. During the 
meal he said : 

“Mr. Warren, your name is very familiar to me. 
May I inquire where you came from?” 

“ Certainly, sir.” replied Robert. “My father and 
his immediate family live in southern Texas, and I 
am on my way to Kentucky to visit an uncle who re- 
sides there.” 

“Is your father’s first name Robert, and did he 
come originally from South Carolina ?” 

“You have hit his name, sir; and he is a South 
Carolinian by birth,” said Robert, looking up in surprise. 

“Then,” said Mr. Bastrop, seizing Robert’s hand 
across the table, “your father and I were college 
chums, and sworn friends in days gone past. Why,” 
continued Mr. Bastrop, with increased warmth, “I 
am delighted to have a son of Bob Warren under 
my roof, and I hope to be able to keep him here till 
he wearies of his father’s friend.” 

Robert looked and spoke his thanks, but told Mr. 
Bastrop that he regretted he would have to leave 
as soon as his friend and servant were recruited and 
the horses rested. 

“Yes, Mr. Warren, you have all your father’s en- 
ergy, and look like him, too ; don’t you think so, 
Mollie,” addressing the daughter who sat near him. 

Miss Mollie, who had never seen the father, and 
had only stolen a glance at the son, blushed as she 
replied : 


108 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“It must be so, papa, though I regret I never met 
Mr. Warren’s father.” 

“Yes, to be sure. But, wife, you have,” and Mr. 
Bastrop turned to his wife, who, taking a pleasant 
look at Mr. Warren, corroborated her husband’s 
view. 

“Well,” continued Mr. Bastrop, “you will not 
think of leaving under a week, for, depend upon it, 
Mr. Warren, you will need all your vigor in the com- 
ing war for southern rights.” Mr. Bastrop looked at 
Robert, who was busy with some dish before him, and 
went on : “Of course, I need notask your father’s 
son on which side his sympathies are. Though I 
must say, Robert Warren was never a Calhoun man, 
nor, indeed, was I, though we both see now that the 
great South Carolinian was right ...” 

“You have not mistaken the feelings of my father 
nor myself in this matter, Mr. Bastrop, so far as 
southern rights are concerned ; but we both question 
the wisdom of secession. I think it would be easier 
to battle for our rights in the Union as statesmen, 
than to attempt a forced recognition of them by the 
bayonet.” 

“I did not favor the movement of South Carolina 
myself. But we are in for it. Plowever, I do not 
anticipate trouble. There will be no war, Mr. War- 
ren. Say what we may about the Yankees, we can- 
not deny their shrewdness, and they know full well 
they would stand no chance before southern gentle- 
men.” As Mr. Bastrop spoke, he straightened up in 
his chair, and his handsome*face glowed with earnest- 
ness as he concluded : “As an old man I have been 
happy till the last few weeks, and now, Mr. Warren, 


A GUARDED TONGUE. 


] 09 


I would give up everything to be able to take part in 
the war, if we are to have one.” 

“I certainly admire your spirit, Mr. Bastrop, and I 
hope the cause of your unhappiness will soon be 
shown to be groundless, by having all our rights con- 
ceded and all our difficulties peacefully arranged.” 

Hubert kept up this guarded conversation with Mr. 
Bastrop till nearly noon, when he joined the ladies, 
whom he found to be elegant and accomplished. 
Knowing the tenor of the morning’s conversation, 
they delicately dropped it, and Bobert Warren was 
entertained by the brilliant conversation for which 
the educated southern ladies are remarkable. 

A little before dinner Gaines came down, looking 
like a different man, and showing great surprise when 
informed of the number of hours he had been 
asleep. 

After dinner, Bobert walked out and found that 
though the sky was still black, it had stopped raining. 
He saw Archy, who appeared as fresh as ever, and 
who informed him that the horses were “as smart 
and dry as if dey’d neber had water ’bove dere 
hoofs.” 

Beturning to the house he announced to Mr. Bas- 
trop his determination to start immediately on his 
journey. The kind-hearted gentleman and his ami- 
able family tried to change Bobert’s mind, but seeing 
that he was positive, they did everything to make his 
departure pleasant. He found his clothing clean and 
dried, and the articles that had been left in his saddle- 
bags washed and nicely folded. 

“My friend, Mr. Gaines,” said Bobert, addressing 
the kind host, “ lost his horse, as I informed you last 
10 


110 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


evening. We desire to purchase another. Can you 
tell me. Mr. Bastrop, where we can be accommo- 
dated ?” 

“Buy a horse!” said Mr. Bastrop in surprise. 
“Bob Warren’s son buy a horse from me ! I have a 
great notion to hold on to you till your recent cold 
chill has wholly left your heart.” 

Itobert laughed as he said : “But, Mr. Bastrop, I 
did not propose to buy one from you. I will get one 
at some neighbor’s if you will direct me.” 

It was now Mr. Bastrop’s turn to laugh. “Why, 
my nearest neighbor lives four miles from here, and 
he has plenty of mules, but no horses, to sell.” Then, 
changing his tone, Mr. Bastrop continued: “Serious- 
ly, Mr. Warren, there are a dozen horses in my stables. 
Let your friend take his choice. And if you have 
any compunctions about the gift, let me say, that 
were it not for the aid and advice of your father, I 
would not be living to-day, and, if living, I would not 
be worth a cent.” 

Mr. Bastrop spoke with emotion, and Itobert ac- 
cepted his generous offer. 

By three o’clock they bade farewell to the noble 
planter and his family, and accompanied by a guide 
whom Mr. Bastrop sent to show them the right road, 
they were again on their journey north. As they 
rode along Itobert called to mind the many good and 
noble men who were rushing into the vortex of seces- 
sion, as sheep follow their leader. 


CHAPTEK XII. 


KENTUCKY. 

There was a time, not long distant, when the name 
“Kentuckian” was a synonym for bravery, patriot- 
ism, and hospitality, and no star shone brighter in the 
galaxy of States than that representing Kentucky. 
Blessed above every section of the Union in her loca- 
tion and natural advantages, her climate tempered 
the colder air of the north with the warm winds from 
the south, to produce an atmosphere healthy and in- 
vigorating. Her valleys were deep and rich, and on 
her thousand hills the finest herds in the country 
grazed. The productions of her soil were always in 
demand, and poverty among her sons bespoke in its 
exception improvidence . School houses and churches 
were scattered in nearly every section of the State, 
and the people were famed for their honor and intelli- 
gence. True, slavery existed there, but in a form so 
mild as to give all the advantages of the institution 
to the negro, without whom the masters would have 
been better off. But in Kentucky, as in other slave 
States, the doctrine of State sovereignty had taken a 
fast hold on the younger portion of the community, 
who knew nothing of the patriotism of Clay or the 
inflexibility of Jackson ; and to uphold this idea, 
thousands of Kentucky’s best men poured out theii 


112 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


blood against the flag their fathers so bravely defend- 
ed at New Orleans. Still, she was not ardent in her 
new love, nor wholly forgetful of the old, for the his- 
tory of western victories is the record of Kentucky 
daring. To every sword that she sent to the South, 
she gave a saber and two muskets to the Union. 

When it was seen that war was inevitable, as a 
State Kentucky occupied no enviable position. Di- 
vided in her sentiments and her views of right, she 
wavered, and while she refused aid to the Union, she 
tried to make amends by warning the confederate sol- 
diers from her border. Had she acted as South 
Carolina or Massachusetts did, her veriest enemies 
would turn with admiration and respect to the State 
which they now jeer as the type of vacillation and 
imbecility. Poor Kentucky ! her indecision has fully 
established her claim to the name of “the dark and 
bloody ground.” 

Yet she was and is still “the fairest land of all,” 
with her undulating hills, and her green valleys and 
noble rivers, and homes so indicative of culture and 
wealth. 

Among those homes, set like jewels in the emerald 
center of the “blue-grass region,” there was none 
happier or more beautiful than that of Louis War- 
ren, of Jessamine, situated in the most fertile part of 
what they call “the garden spot of the world,” em- 
bowered in the primitive forest of locust, and walnut, 
and maple, with here and there a glimpse of the clear 
Kentucky river, like a mild eye peeping through the 
openings. Buffalo and deer grazed witli nearly their 
primitive freedom in the grand park surrounding the 
place. Hedges of Osage orange and the Cherokee 


WARREN OF KENTUCKY. 


113 


rose sent up their fragrance with the perfume of 
countless other flowers. How grand, yet cozy, that 
old house looked, with its stately pillars in front, and 
its score of angles, nooks, and quaint chinmies, and 
gables behind, with patches of yellow sunlight floating 
before it on the lawn, and masses of rich flowers bor- 
dering the well-kept walks. 

Mr. Warren counted his acres by thousands and his 
servants by hundreds. He was blessed above most 
men in wealth, and his children were the crowning 
glory of his declining years. You might search that 
land, famous for its noble-looking men, without find- 
ing the physical superiors of Allen or Russell War- 
ren. Both were just past the threshold of manhood, 
and in addition to great prospective wealth and fine 
persons, they had the advantage of an education in 
the foremost college of the North. 

Mr. Warren had one daughter, in every respect 
worthy of her father and brothers. She was his 
youngest child, bright, beautiful, and accomplished ; 
but having lost her mother in early life, and accus- 
tomed to having her own way, some might think, 
who did not understand her warm heart and pure mo- 
tives, that she was spoiled. 

It was the early part of May, 1861 . Mr. Warren and 
his family were sitting on the gallery enjoying the 
beautiful sunset, which, from their position, could be 
seen tipping with gold the blue hills in the distance. 
The young men were chatting together pleasantly, and 
smoking with the slow, languid puffs peculiar to men 
who enjoy the weed. Miss Bell was relating some 
amusing incident to her father, for the old gentleman 
clapped his hands, and they laughed in chorus, till the 
10 * 


114 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


mirth spread to the faces of the brothers, who laughed, 
though they knew not the cause. A servant rode up 
the avenue, and, dismounting, handed Mr Warren the 
mail, just brought in from Nicholasville. 

The papers from Cincinnati and Louisville were 
seized immediately by the three gentlemen. They 
glanced rapidly over the pages, as if looking for some 
news in which each was particularly interested. After 
a few moments, Russell, the younger of the brothers, 
rose quickly from his seat, and throwing up his hat 
with boyish impetuosity, shouted out, “Hurrah for 
Southern rights ! Why, see here, Allen, Beauregard 
has driven every Yankee from South Carolina.” 

Russell turned to his brother, who never looked up 
from the paper on which he was intent. His indiffer- 
ence nettled Russell, who said pettishly: 

“Allen, I wouldn’t be as cold a toad as you for the 
world. Why don’t you help me cheer?” 

“Because, Russell,” said Allen, looking into his 
brother’s eyes with a pained expression, “ I can see 
nothing to cheer for.” 

“Nothing to cheer for?” retorted Russell with a 
glow on his cheek. “Is it nothing when our fellow- 
countrymen of South Carolina assert their rights ?” 

“Yes; but, brother,” said Allen, slowly, “they as- 
sert their rights, as you call it, by driving out our fel- 
low-countrymen who have done them no wrong.” 

“ No wrong,” said Russell, in the same excited tone. 
‘Why, Allen, you astound me more and more every 
'lay. What has changed you? Has not the North 
wronged us by placing abolitionists in power, and 
planning for the ruin of every slaveholder in the South.” 

“I don’t think so. Neither you nor I have suL 


THE CONFLICT OF IDEAS. 


113 


fered any wrong. Show me wherein Kentucky or 
South Carolina has been injured by the people re- 
cently elected, and I will cheer as heartily as you at 
every reverse they meet with.” 

“Allen, this is simply nonsense. If I know a man 
is sworn to injury, do you think I am going to wait 
for him to knock me down before I put myself on the 
defensive?” asked Russell. 

“By no means,” replied Allen ; “but I would not 
knock the man down and kick him out on the mere 
suspicion of his evil designs ; and that is what South 
Carolina has done, to continue your illustration.” 

“ Yes, and I hope Kentucky will come to her senses, 
and wake from her sleep, and follow the example of 
South Carolina. I, for one, am ready to fight the fa- 
natics of the North the moment Kentucky decides.” 

As Russell concluded he walked to the end of the 
gallery, and, on returning, Allen addressed him with- 
out raising his eyes from the paper. 

“ Brother Russell, the day Kentucky becomes so 
blind as to decide against the Union, I will be one 
of her faithful sons to lead her back to the fold, and 
I say this with the full conviction that blood must be 
shed to do it.” 

Russell drew a seat near to his brother, and looked 
at him with amazement, while Allen continued : 

“This appeal to the South is simply the maturing 
of a plan concocted by ambitious men before we were 
born, Russell. The North has fairly beaten us in 
strength and resources ; she has elected a President 
against* our wish ; now let us submit, as they have 
done heretofore, and not make our State a wedge to 
divide the Union.” 


116 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ That sounds very well as a piece of abstract coun- 
sel,” said Russell, assuming a critical air, “but T take 
it there are statesmen in Kentucky whom you have 
idolized heretofore, who know more about the neces- 
sity for secession than we do, and they hold the same 
views I entertain. You voted, last fall, for John C. 
Breckinridge, and I gave him, as you know, the first 
vote I ever cast.” 

Russell looked inquiringly at his brother, and Alien 
said : 

“Yes, that is very true/’ 

“ Well,” continued Russell, “ I heard him say, in 
a speech in Lexington yesterday, that the time had - 
come for Kentucky to take part with her sisters of 
the South, and he advised the young men to be train- 
ing, for war would certainly come. A large number of 
Jessamine County boys were over there, and on our re- 
turn we organized another company of the State Guard.” 

“I am still true to the principles I held when I 
voted for Breckinridge,” said Allen, “and so far as 
he advocates the measures you have mentioned, he 
is false to himself, and unworthy the esteem of every 
good man/’ 

“ Brother Allen,” said Bell, with pouting lips, 
“you are a real tease. How can you talk so, when 
all the young men in the country are for the South. 

I told George Watson, yesterday, when he talked as 
you do, that hereafter he must have some other lis- 
tener, for I would not come near him, and before he 
left he promised to join the State Guard.” 

“Yes, sister, your sex has played the same trick 
before on better men,” said Allen, in the same calm 
tone that characterized everything he said. 


“KENTUCKY NEUTRALITY.’ ’ 


117 


Mr. Warren sat with anxious face listening to the 
conversation of his children, but taking no part 
therein. When Allen had concluded, the old gentle- 
man rose, saying : 

“ My children, I would prefer to hear no more of 
this. Let us enter the house, and find some more 
profitable occupation. It pains me to hear such talk, 
where we have had love and happiness heretofore. ,, 

On entering the parlor the hot-headed Bussell 
again broke out with : 

“ Father, you know the South is right, and people 
must take sides. Now cannot you tell us, for Allen’s 
benefit, just what you think of the stand he has taken.” 

“ My boy,” said Mr. Warren, laying his hand on 
Bussell’s shoulder, “I cannot side with either section. 
I believe the majority of the northern people mean 
to do right. They are not as fanatical as we suppose, 
and I cannot think that separation is a remedy for 
evils, real or imaginary. On the other hand, we must 
accept things as they are, not as we would have 
them. A war is imminent, and by blood and interest 
we are allied to the South.” 

“ But, father, if this war becomes general, what 
side would you have Kentucky take?” asked Allen. 

“I would have Kentucky stand aloof till the hot 
blood of each section is cooler, and then step in as a 
mediator betweep them.” 

“ In such a conflict as this, however, positive men 
must take sides ; but one side can be right, and 
in my opinion the whole country claims the service 
of the true patriot, in preference to a section. I re- 
gret our differences, but I am firmly decided to stand 
by the Union.” 


118 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


As Allen said this he did not raise his voice, but 
it sounded stronger and deeper than his ordinary tones. 

44 Brother Allen / 9 said Russell, “give me credit 
for being as honest in my convictions as you are. I 
am as strong in my feelings for the South as you can 
be for the Union, and I am willing, if necessary, to 
give my life blood as a pledge of my fidelity/ * 

44 1 know you are honest, my Russell,” said Allen, 
rising and clasping the hand of his brother. “I know 
you are incapable of a mean or dishonorable act, yet 
I must attribute what I deem your errors to some 
cause ; let me call it thoughtlessness / 9 
Allen turned as he spoke and left the room. Put- 
ting on his hat, he walked down through the locust 
grove, through which glimpses of the moon could be 
caught, and from which came the delicious perfume 
of the flowering trees. He walked with his hands 
behind him and his eyes cast down. He loved his 
brother dearly as his own life. There was only a few 
years* difference in their ages, and from childhood 
they had been companions, as playmates, schoolboys, 
and college chums. Now he felt there was an es- 
trangement, the first of their lives. It arose from no 
personal feeling, for Russell was still the same noble, 
generous boy, loved by all who knew him. Each 
brother was the representative of antagonistic ideas. 
Each was positive debate was useless, and one side 
or the other must yield through other agencies. As 
Allen strolled back he thought over the possibility 
of a war, and he pictured himself and brother fighting 
on opposite sides, and his heart gave a throb, and a 
pain shot across his forehead. The idea was horri- 
ble, and he tried to banish it by increasing his speed 


A GAME OF WHIST. 


119 


towards the house. On entering, Russell rose, and, 
placing both arms around his brother’s neck, said : 

“ Alley, old boy, we are just going to settle all our 
difficulties. Bell and I have decided to challenge 
you and father to a game of whist. We will repre- 
sent the sunny South, and you the othei side.” 

Allen laughed and agreed to it, nor was he sorry 
when, at a late hour, the sunny South was ahead 
three games. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


SPECULATIONS. 

the morning the all-absorbing topic was again 
introduced by BelPs remarking, at the breakfast 
table : 

“Since the secession of Texas, I have been think- 
ing a great deal about uncle Robert’s family. If 
there is to be a war, cousin Robert may come here to 
fight.” 

“Yes, sister,” said Russell, “if your old school- 
mate, cousin Mary, knew how Kentucky was acting, 
I am sure she would regret having relatives here.” 

“You take it for granted, then, that uncle Robert’s 
family is opposed to the Union. I have more respect 
for them than to believe it,” interposed Alleu quietly. 

“That idea about respect, Allen, is a matter of 
opinion,” said Russell. “ I would be willing to wager 
my horse that at this time cousin Robert is raising 
a squadron of Texas rangers to avenge the wrongs of 
his State.” 

“Yes, Texas has been fearfully wronged by Indians 
and cut-throat desperadoes, in addition to her unprin- 
cipled politicians. I hope Robert retains his old hate 
for the class last named.” 

Allen said this with a cold smile, that had the effect 


THE WAR OF WORDS. 


121 


rousing Russell, who poured out a torrent of gen- 
eral invective against Yankees, Puritans, witch-burners, 
abolitionists, fanatics, negro-stealers, and northern 
mud-sills. 

“Brother Russell,” said Allen, after his brother had 
exhausted himself, “I have a distinct recollection of 
having saved you, while at school, from a flogging at 
the hands of one of those Yankees, for language less 
strong and more thoughtful than that just uttered. 
However, we were talking about Texas. You may 
remember that when Texas was annexed, we took her 
with all her debts, and desperadoes, and New England 
helped to pay those debts, that the South might have 
more slave territory. Texas wronged ! Why, as a 
State, she is the meanest and basest of ingrates, and 
her secession and the subsequent murders of good 
men, are in keeping with the character of her lead- 
ers.’ ’ 

“I suppose, brother Allen,” said Bell, “you class 
uncle Robert’s family with the desperadoes and bad 
people of Texas.” 

“No, Bell, I could not be just and suppose such a 
thing; and even if they did vote for secession, I 
would except them from the catalogue, knowing how 
good they are : just, my sister, as I except you and 
Russell from the ambitious demagogues and passion- 
ate people of the South, with whom you sympathise.” 
There was a kindly tone in Allen’s voice as he spoke, 
and as he continued it became lower and softer : “ 1 
have not seen cousin Robert for years, but as a boy he 
bade fair to be a noble man, like his father. Whether 
for or against the Union, I must respect him, fbr his 
motives, I am sure, are right.” 

11 


122 


TTAHREN OF TEXAS. 


Allen might have continued in this strain, had not 
his attention been attracted by a tramping of horses 
outside, followed by the ringing of the door-bell. 
Soon after, a servant announced two gentlemen in the 
hall. 

“ What do they look like, Patsy?” asked Bell, with 
a woman’s curiosity, as she glanced at the mirror above 
the mantel-piece. 

‘ 4 Why, Miss, dey’s kinder nice, an’ dey look right 
smart funny; an’ dey’s got de orfullest beards an’ 
hats, 0 Lor’,” and Patsy tried to describe the sombre- 
ros by drawing an imaginary circle above her head 
with both hands extended. 

Bell laughed at the queer description, and, as she 
glanced^ again at the mirror, directed the servant to 
show the gentlemen into the parlor. 

Patsy returned in a few seconds, and, in a voice in- 
dicative of amazement, said : 

“0, sakes, Miss Bell, de gentleman says he’s yer 
cousin, an’ he corn’d from Texas.” 

Instantly Mr. Warren and his family rose from the 
table and went to the parlor, and Robert Warren of 
Texas and his friend Gaines received that warm 
greeting that a Kentucky gentleman can give when 
his heart is in sympathy with his words. After the 
first words of hearty welcome, the thoughtful Allen 
went to the window, and, looking out for an instant, 
said : 

“I see you have horses — but I might have known 
that ; only imagine a Texan without a horse !” 

Going to the door he called to a black man who 
was working in one of the flower-beds, “ Uncle Toby, 
take the horses to the stable, rub them down well after 


COFFEE AND COMPLIMENTS. 


123 


you water them, and then see that they are well fed. 
And, on your way, tell Aunt Pheney to give the boy 
a good warm breakfast. Do you hear?” 

“ All right, Mauss Al. I’ll see dat de hosses an' 
de boy’s keered fur,” said Uncle Toby, as he led the 
horses to the stable, followed by Archy. 

After some minutes spent in inquiring about their 
mutual families, Bell called to mind the fact that Bob* 
ert and his friend were just in time for breakfast, and 
though they had eaten before, they could not resist 
the temptation to join the family. 

While at breakfast Robert apologized for his “ out- 
landish costume,” as he was pleased to call his Texan 
dress. He assured his pretty cousin that he had 
clothing much more presentable, which he would don 
after breakfast. 

Bell laughed as she assured cousin Robert that he 
was welcome, no matter what his appearance might 
be, adding : “1 think your present dress romantic and 
picturesque. It might not look so well, however, on 
a different looking man.” 

Robert gracefully acknowledged the compliment of 
his cousin, and after breakfast he and Haines left to 
dress, he promising to return soon and show his cousin 
“a couple of Texan savages attired in the manufac- 
ture of timid Yankees.” 

After the visitors had withdrawn, Russell, who felt 
rather sore over the previous conversation, began : 

“ You see, brother Allen, from the tone of cousin 
Robert’s conversation, he is opposed to the Yankees 
{Shouldn’t wonder if he came on here to raise a company 
of Kentuckians. W ouidn’t he make a dashing soldier J 
Clear the track, Y'ankees,” and Russell crowed ex- 
ultingly. 


124 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“I beg, Russell,” said Mr. Warren, “that you do 
not draw Robert out on that question. No matter 
what his views may be, it would be unpleasant for 
him, as we are so unfortunate as to be radical and 
opposite.” 

Allen smiled as he said : “ Father, we are not ex- 
actly opposite. You split the difference between 
Russell and myself, by being thoroughly conserva- 
tive.” 

Bell walked up behind her father’s chair, and draw- 
ing back his head she kissed his forehead, saying, as 
she toyed with his grey hair : “ I think my dear, kind 
father is — let me see — what do you call it, Rus- 
sell?” Russell suggested “on the fence,” and Bell 
repeated, “Yes, father, you are on the fence — on my 
side of it, however.” 

Mr. Warren intended to laugh, from the twitchings 
of his face, but gradually it grew more serious, and 
he dropped his head on his breast, as if the remarks 
of his children had led him to more serious reflec- 
tion. 

Robert and Gaines soon returned, looking like dif- 
ferent men in their clean, civilized attire. 

“ Cousin Robert,” said Russell, shortly after Robert 
came down, “I am going to Nicholasville to attend 
a drill of a new State Guard company. If you are 
not too tired to go with me, I can provide you with a 
horse, such as you never saw on the prairies.” 

“I thank you very much, and should be pleased t<» 
go, were I not so tired,” said Robert. “I know some- 
thing about horses, however, and would like to see 
this wonderful animal of yours.” 

They walked out, and Russell pointed out his ele- 


TALKING “HOSS ” 


125 


gant four-year-old bay, purchased when a colt from 
the famous stock-raiser, ‘‘Lord” Alexander. Eobert 
admired the beautiful creature, pointed out the fine 
points with his finger, and then said : 

“You have a fine horse, cousin Eussell, but if you 
w ish to see one that can beat him one hundred and 
fifty yards in a mile, go to the stable and take a look 
at one of the horses I brought from the prairies.” 

You may tell a Kentuckian you are stronger, of 
better family, and of superior abilities to him, and he 
may pass your remarks unheeded ; but tell him you 
have a horse that can leave his behind, and suddenly he 
flashes up, and is willing to w^ager his all that you are 
in error. Eussell tried to laugh as he said ; 

“All you say about your horse is possible, cousin 
Eobert ; but wait till you and your horse are rested, 
and we will have a rare ride. Now, I must leave you 
to my good Quaker brother. I’m off for the drill.” 

Eussell finished his last words w r hile vaulting into 
the saddle, then rode some distance at a walk. He 
looked back, and seeing that his cousin was watching 
him, he raised his hat, and giving free rein to his 
beautiful horse, like an arrow he sped down the long 
vista, arched by the flowering locusts. 

It was indeed a day of rest to Eobert. He lounged, 
smoked, and tried to read, but thoughts of the dear 
one at home and the memories of the dangers he had 
encountered to reach Kentucky, haunted him. 

In the afternoon Bell sought him out, and proposed 
a stroll through the grounds, to which he willingly 
agreed. They sauntered out through the gardens, 
Bell entertaining her cousin by pointing out her 
favorite flowers, and drawing him out on the flora of 
11 * 


126 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Texas, in which he was perfectly at home. She 
spoke about the current literature, and was astonished 
at her cousin's familiarity with her most read authors. 
She prattled about a hundred things, trivial they 
would seem if written ; yet a lovely woman can 
warble them out and be irresistible. Tired at length, 
she took off her hat, and shaking loose her wealth of 
jetty curls, she led her cousin to a seat, exclaiming : 

“ Oh, cousin Hubert, you look so brave and strong, 
that it makes me particularly happy to see you at this 
time.” 

“Why, my little cousin, I had no idea that the fact 
of my being strong would increase your pleasure at 
seeing me. If I were small and weak, would you not 
esteem me as highly ?’” asked Robert. 

“Yes, I would esteem you, no matter what you 
looked like, cousin Robert,” said Bell, “but lam 
sure I would not be so happy to see you just at this 
time, if you were as small as I am.” 

“ If I were as sweet looking in addition, I think 
you would, cousin Bell,” said Robert. “ Now, I am 
nervous with anxiety to know why you admire my size 
and strength.” 

“Because, cousin Robert,” said Bell, her face grow- 
ing serious, “ I want strong men to fight. 0, we are 
going to have such an awful war, and fearful times ! 
Russell has joined the State Guard, and nearly all the 
young men are going to. Brother Allen is a regular 
Yankee. I’m sorry, for I love him very much. He 
got angry last night. I could see it in his eyes. And 
he said, if Kentucky seceded, he would fight her. 
Don't you think it was wicked to speak so? Say yes, 
please.” 


“AT YOUR SUMMONS.” 


127 


8 lie added the last three words after waiting some 
time for an answer. But Bobert, with his eyes cast 
on the ground, forgot his cousin in the whirling 
thoughts which rushed through his brain. 

Bell looked inquiringly into his face, and then, in a 
soft sweet voice, asked, ‘‘Are you ill, cousin Bobert? 
You must be. Come, let us return to the house.” 

“Yes, cousin, I am sick,” and Bobert spoke with an 
emphasis that startled her. 

He rose and walked rapidly back, almost forgetting 
his fair companion. On reaching the house he di- 
rected a servant to tell Allen he wished to see him at 
once. 

With a woman’s instinct, Bell saw the true state of 
affairs, and agitated by anger and sorrow, she went to 
her room, and eased her heart in the great solace 
of her sex — tears. 

Ln a few minutes Allen entered the room where 
Robert sat gazing earnestly out of the window, and 
said : “ My stalwart cousin, at your summons ; your 
servant has come to receive his orders.” Allen spoke 
in a playful way, but his manner changed when his 
eyes met those of Bobert, with their strong, stem ex- 
pression. 

“ Ret us take a walk, Allen,” said Bobert. “ There is 
a subject on which Lam very anxious to speak with you.” 

Calling Caines, who now, as heretofore, was using 
his spare moments in writing to his wife letters which 
he felt very certain would never reach her, they walked 
to a rustic arbor some distance from the house, and 
after being seated, Bobert related to Alien the con- 
versation he had just had with his cousin Bell and 
then he asked : 


128 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ Are you truly in favor of the Union, cousin Allen ? 

Allen replied : “ Without at all knowing how you 
stand on that question, I will answer your inquiry with 
the candor with which it was asked. Yes, I am in 
favor of the Union, and so much so as to lay down my 
life, if necessary, for it.” 

“Give me your hand on that, Mr. Warren,” said 
Gaines, rising and extending his hand to Allen. The 
hands were clasped, and Allen knew that his cousin 
was a Union man. 

Robert then related to Allen his reasons for visiting 
Kentucky. He spoke of the voting in Brazoria, the 
tearing down of the flag, the assault of Townsend, and 
the subsequent flight of himself and companions. He 
showed up the gigantic fraud by which Texas was 
rushed out of the Union, and the wholesale murder ol 
Union men which followed. He touched but lightly 
on the perils of his flight, the Caddo lakes, and the 
wild mobs of Arkansas and Tennessee. 

“I rode the whole of the distance,” he said, “and 
’mid the hardships incident to such a flight my heart 
was buoyed up with the strong hope that in Kentucky 
I would find patriots arming for the whole country, 
and the fires of patriotism burning brightly. Instead 
of this, I see, with sorrow, Kentucky far beneath 
South Carolina in consistency. She stands tottering, 
undecided which way to go, as if there could be two 
right sides to any question.” 

“I agree with you in every particular, cousin Rob- 
ert,” said Allen. “I have my fears, however, that 
General Buckner, who commands the State Guard, is 
now working to hand over his men, and with them the 
State, to the rebels.” 


A DETERMINED TRIO. 120 

“Allen, I have traveled over two thousand miles to 
reach Kentucky. I came here to act. The Govern- 
ment has called for troops, and your miserable gover- 
nor, Magoffin, refuses to respond. I will not remain 
here while the country needs my services. Gaines 
and myself will start inside the week for some State 
that is raising Union troops, even if it takes us to 
Massachusetts.” Robert’s face assumed the expres- 
sion that came over it when Townsend accosted him 
at the polls as he stepped up to vote. 

“Kentucky cannot remain long undecided, Robert,” 
said Allen. “She must take sides, and, despite the 
number of secessionists in our midst, I am confident 
the majority of our people are in favor of the Union. 
In the streets of Lexington you will see hundreds oi 
men and women openly wearing secession cockades, 
but I am glad to say they are not our thinking people. 
My advice would be to you, stay here till the Govern- 
ment adopts some positive course of action, and then 
I promise that you go not alone to her aid. What say 
you?” 

“ I am willing to be guided by you in this, and here 
let inp express my pleasure at seeing you so decided/’ 
said Robert. 

“Whatever course you choose to pursue, gentlemen, 
count me in to the death,” said Gaines ; “ though I 
fear our efforts to maintain the Union will be unavail- 


CHAPTER XIY. 


THE BAEBECTJE. 

A few days after the arrival of our friends at Mr. 
Warren’s, Gaines was taken ill with a brain fever, the 
result of hardship and anxiety. During the delirium, 
which lasted several days, he raved widly about the 
trials through which he had passed, and all of Mr. War- 
ren’s family became familiar with his past troubles. 
Everything that faithful attendants and skillful physi- 
cians could do was done to restore him, and after nine 
days the fever passed off, leaving him feeble and 
emaciated. 

In the meantime Allen and Robert had been busy 
in the neighborhood, rousing the latent Union element* 
and organizing a company secretly pledged to the 
Union, though nominally belonging to the State 
Guard. 

In the latter part of May it was decided by the 
people of Jessamine and Fayette counties to give a 
barbecue to the military organizations of both places* 
The place selected Avas on the banks of the beautiful 
Kentucky River, a few miles above the Shaker Ferry. 
There was an ample space of pasture-land for the 
movements of larger bodies of troops than could have 
been assembled by both counties, and around the 
fields on the hills that swept down to the river, were 
the grand woods so peculiar to this portion of the 


A STATE GUARD MUSTER. 


131 


State, and which afforded fine points from which to 
view the parade. 

Early on the morning of the day set apart for the 
barbecue, scores of carriages could be seen on the 
way to the grounds, and bands of horsemen poured 
into the woods from every direction. The bridles of 
the horsemen were decorated with bunches of rib- 
bons, the colors of which denoted the sympathies of 
the rider. Those in favor of the Union wore red, 
white, and blue ; those who advocated secession 
chose red, white, and red, and, from the number of 
the latter streamers, the majority of the horsemen were 
certainly in favor of the South. Several companies 
from Lexington came down on a special train, and 
marched across from Nicholasville, carrying their 
colors covered. 

In the finely-shaded grove where the feast, or bar- 
becue, was to take place, hundreds of the most beau- 
tiful girls in Kentucky strolled around, watching the 
new arrivals, waving their handkerchiefs to friends, 
and showing decided enthusiasm whenever a company 
advanced which they knew to be in favor of secession. 
Many of them wore small southern flags pinned to 
their breasts, and there were not wanting those who 
dared in the same way to carry diminutive flags rep- 
resenting the whole Union. The large assembly was 
not composed wholly of young people. There were 
scores of fine, hale-looking, elderly men and matronly 
women present, evidently as much interested in what 
was going on as were the younger persons, and as 
much divided in their feelings toward the Union. 

By eleven o’clock the woods were crowded with 
citizens and citizen-soldiers, and rival bands alter- 


132 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


nated with “Dixie” and the “Star-spangled Ban- 
ner.” The morning was spent in listening to speeches 
which were either weakly conservative or extremely 
southern in the sentiments advanced. The latter 
speakers were most popular, and their most radical 
ideas were most loudly cheered. During this time 
the dinner was being barbecued, and as the ox, and 
sheep, and scores of poultry wasted before the huge 
fires, the black cooks looked as if they were preparing 
a meal for the inhabitants of Brobdignag. Long ta- 
bles, supplied with linen, dishes, and cutlery by the 
neighboring farmers, or brought from a greater dis- 
tance, radiated in a half circle from the fires. Huge 
kettles of coffee, boiled on smaller fires, and piles of 
cold meats, pastry, and preserves were stored in the 
branch-covered larder. That the dinner was enjoyed, 
the rapid disappearance of the good things showed, 
but it was equally observable in the wit and repartee 
all around, and the constant chorus of laughter that 
came from every table. It was a good place to see 
the gallantry of the young Kentuckians, and to have 
displayed to advantage the beauty of Kentucky’s 
daughters. 

After dinner was over an order was read announcing 
that in half an hour the assembly would sound, and 
the members of the State Guard would be required 
to fall in promptly with their different commands. It 
was the most exciting half hour so far. Fair hands 
were not wanting to adjust equipments according to 
the feminine ideas of beauty, and musket muzzles 
were adorned with little red bouquets, nor was it 
deemed a breach of good discipline to carry them so 
in the line. 


JOHN MORGAN. 


132 


When the bugle sounded, and the infantry and 
mounted men moved into the field, each company 
was cheered by its friends, and the men walked more 
erect for the recognition. After the mounted men 
had formed, the infantry, at a double-quick, took a 
position on their left. The first company in line was 
headed by a man noticeable among the many. He 
was about thirty-five years of age, over six feet in 
height, finely-proportioned, and straight as an Indian. 
His hair was a ^ ery light brown, close cut, and his 
firm mouth was covered with a large, light-colored 
moustache. His face was long and muscular-looking — 
what would be called a Scotch face — and his greyish- 
blue eyes had a sharp, cold, and cunning expression. 
As he marched with drawn sword at a double-quick, in 
advance of his company, cheer after cheer went up 
from citizens and soldiers for “ John Morgan and the 
Lexington Rifles.” 

It was decided by the officers, after the review, to 
have a sham battle, for the amusement of the specta- 
tors and the particular delight of the fiery soldiers 
themselves. The infantry marched with admirable 
deliberation to a point to the left and at right angles 
with the spectators. The cavalry took a position par- 
allel and to the right of the anxious assemblage, and 
then, with praiseworthy coolness, sat on their horses 
while the opposing infantry loaded their pieces with 
blank cartridges. At a signal, a number of horsemen 
dismounted, and after disentangling themselves from 
their sabers, they boldly advanced to skirmish. The 
infantry did the same, and the watching people held 
their breath. Perhaps there were no better riflemen 
in the world than that collection of Kentuckians rep- 


134 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


resented. Any of them could have chipped a squir- 
rel off-hand at a hundred yards ; but to shoot off-hand 
under the circumstances was not soldierly, so the 
skirmishers dropped gracefully on one knee, took a 
deliberate aim at their opponents, no doubt, and fired. 
They continued to stain their pants on the grass in 
this way for some time, when each party appeared to 
be driven back, and the cavalry remounted and the 
infantry dropped into their places in the ranks. It 
was a novel idea but worthy of a great leader ; the 
officer in command of the infantry ordered a charge 
on the cavalry, and with furious yells they rushed 
down on the astounded horse. The cavalrymen could 
have stood the firing and yelling, but the horses be- 
came utterly disgusted, and turning tail they galloped 
wildly in every direction through the field. Several 
prisoners were taken, and the infantry were in high 
glee, and good-naturedly offered to receive a charge 
from the cavalry. The old positions were again taken, 
the charge was sounded, and four hundred magnifi- 
cent horsemen swept across the field. Even in sport 
a cavalry charge is grand. The horsemen yelled, 
fired their pistols, and flashed their sabers. The in- 
fantry reserved their fire and their equally injurious 
yells till the horses came close up, and then they 
poured in both, and the horses wheeled and ran back, 
testing in a severe way the skill of their riders. This 
ended the battle. 

So far the only flags carried by the Guards were 
the State colors and guidons. After a short rest 
from the fatigues of “the battle ” the troops formed 
to march in review, and other flags were unfurled, 
and wild cheers broke from the multitude as the 


UNION VERSUS SECESSION. 


135 


crimson folds of the “ stars 'and bars ” rose over each 
company along the line. But the cheers died out as 
a squadron of cavalry from the further end of the 
field advanced, bearing in its center the emblem of 
Union, the old Stars and Stripes. The cheers were 
not loud that greeted it, but more than one eye moist- 
ened at its sight, and more than one heart blessed 
brave Allen Warren and his “brown-horse” squadron. 
The surprise of the multitude and the pleasure of the 
Union men increased when, after advancing across 
the field, Warren’s company opened and disclosed to 
the rear the red and blue uniforms of the chasseurs. 
This company carried the Union flag, and was com- 
manded by the gallant Saunders Bruce, a brother-in- 
law of John Morgan. 

After this . strangest of all reviews, it was decided, 
as a fitting close to the festivities and exercises of the 
day, to have a peaceable contest of the merits of the 
Union and secession cause. Two squadrons of cav- 
alry were to form at the further end of the field, one 
carrying the southern colors, the other those of the 
Union. The color-bearers were to have fifty yards 
the start, and at a signal all were to gallop across the 
field, and the flag first in was to be crowned with a 
garland, the southern flag by a Union girl, the Union 
flag by one of opposite sympathies. The horsemen 
rode back and formed in line. The colors were ad- 
vanced ; Captain Morgan by general desire carrying 
the confederate flag, and mounted on the best horse 
they could find where all the horses were good. Allen 
Warren advanced abreast of Mofgan, from his own 
squadron, carrying his own flag. A moment or two of 
suaxiety, and the bugle sounded the advance,” and 


WARREN OF TEXAS, 


156 

both squadrons, with their flags, sped like a whirlwind 
over the field. The color-bearers seemed fairly tc 
fly, and their followers came thundering behind. 
They were within three hundred yards of the goal, 
and Allen was three lengths ahead. He felt certain, 
as did his men, and already they began to cheer him. 
But just as he seemed most secure, his horse stumbled, 
fell on his knees, and the flag dropped from Allen’s 
grasp. A loud cheer rang out from the opposite line. 
Morgan was ahead. Quick as a flash, a black horse 
leaped out of Warren’s squadron, and without a mo- 
ment’s check the rider swooped down, seized the flag, 
and tossing it over his head with a cheer that electri- 
fied all who heard it, he flew past Morgan, and before 
the southern flag came up, Kobert Warren dismounted, 
and kneeling amid a huzza of admiration from friend 
and foe, he had the old flag crowned. 

Shortly after this the barbecue broke up, and the 
different companies of the State Guard marched home. 
Before Allen Warren dismissed his men that evening, 
he drew them up in line, and addressed them as fol- 
lows : 

“ The President of our country has called for troops 
to maintain the Union intact, and Kentucky has re- 
fused to respond. This, however, does not prevent 
patriots from acting as individuals. Let those of you 
who are in favor of offering your services to the Gov- 
ernment at once, draw your sabers and advance to the 
front.” Every sword leaped from its scabbard, and 
every horse advanced. 

“I feel proud of you,” said Allen, with more feeling 
than he usually manifested. “To-day you saw the 
men who, sooner or later, we must meet on the field 


PRIVATE ROBERT WARREN. 


137 


of battle. They are our own brothers and friends. 
But no tie of consanguinity or social relation must 
hold us from the road to which duty points. Be 
ready to start from here at a moment’s notice. And 
if you do not hear from me before, we will assemble 
the day after to-morrow at the usual hour at our ren- 
dezvous. Attention ! Bight face ! Break ranks — 
march !” 

Individually the men came up to grasp the hands of 
the cousins ere they rode to their homes, in none of 
which could they find general sympathy. 

As Allen and Robert turned their horses homeward, 
they talked over plans for the future. 

“Allen,” said Robert, after they had conversed 
some time, “ I have decided, as you know, to be a 
full private in your command when we are accepted 
by the Government. I cannot retain my servant, and 
I do not wish to have him away from me. Will you 
engage him ?” 

“Certainly, Robert, if it will please you,” said 
Allen. 

“It will. And then Archy is free, and he does not 
know what to make of it. He could not care foi 
himself, though he is one of the most faithful, pious, 
and reliable men in the world. And to tell the truth, 
we were never parted for a day, except when I was at 
college.” 

“I thought about it myself,” said Allen, “before 
you spoke. Indeed, Robert, I think it will be well to 
remove Archy, for I understand our coquettish cook, 
Aunt Pheney, has designs on his heart, though the 
poor fellow talks about nothing but Susey and the 
piccanins.” 


12 * 


138 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


After reaching home they found a number of the 
young people assembled from the neighboring plan- 
tations, to spend the evening with Miss Bell. All 
were loud and generous in their praises of Robert’s 
exploit. 

“You did splendidly, cousin Robert,” said Russell, 
“though it came near costing you your life.” 

“How was that?” asked Robert. 

“ Why, I heard one of our most desperate men say 
that if you had not acted so quickly he would have 
shot you.” 

“What delightful men you have in your squadron* 
Russell. Assure him for me, should you see him 
again, that we Texans can ride well, and shoot bet- 
ter,” said Robert, with a gay laugh. 

That night, before Robert retired, he sent for Archy, 
and that faithful fellow soon appeared, hat in hand. 

“ Archy, I am going to leave here in a few days, if 
Mr. Gaines is strong enough. I am to be a private 
soldier, and cannot have a servant. Would you be 
willing to go with Master Allen?” asked Robert. 

“Mauss Robut, I doesn’t want to lebe yeh. Why 
can’t I go Tong, an’ tote yer gun an’ tings? Ise got 
lots of money frum ole mauss, an’ can take keer ob 
mysel’.” Archy spoke in a tremulous voice. But he 
brightened up when his master explained that lie 
would be near him daily, and could help him, il rte 
were Allen’s servant, when he willingly consented 


CHAPTER XV. 


TRIALS OF SOUTHERN LOYALISTS. 

It was comparatively easy in the summer of 1861, 
when Lincoln called for troops, for the young men of 
the North to respond. All their sympathies were 
with the Union — their prejudices as a rule against the 
South. They left their homes with the “ God-speed ” 
of friends and relatives, and they stood in the ranks 
beside brothers and schoolmates. They had no op • 
position to their feelings or views of duty, and they 
strengthened the ties of friendship and consanguinity 
by their actions. How very different it was with the 
men who fought for the Union from the South. All 
their prejudices and associations bound them to their 
States, and opposed them to the “ Yankees.” It was 
popular to favor secession, and social ostracism re- 
sulted in an opposite course. They had not even the 
blessings of mothers or the sympathies of fathers in 
every case to give them strength, and often, as with 
Allen Warren, they had to take sides against the 
brothers they loved, and array themselves in' arms 
against life-long friends. They could not organize in 
their own neighborhoods, but stealthily, one by one, 
they had to escape to some point where they could 
find the flag protected by the men of the North. In 
case of sickness or wounds there were no furloughs or 
leaves of absence to welcome homes, for those homes 


140 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


for four years were scenes of constant strife. Yet 
with all these difficulties staring them in the face, in 
addition to secession in Tennessee, and a false neu- 
trality in Kentucky, by thousands gallant men from 
each State gave up homes, friends, relatives, social 
position, and early prejudices, and took upon them- 
selves hardships, privations, and dangers, that the na- 
tion might live. It is well for the future of America 
that a love for the Union was not sectional or parti- 
san during the war. Every southern State was rep- 
resented by organizations or individuals on the side 
of the Union, and it can be safely said that every 
northern State was represented in the armies of the 
South. 

By the middle of June, Captain Warren’s men, to 
the number of fifty-seven, had assembled at Jefferson- 
ville, Indiana. They left their homes a few at a time, 
but they found hundreds of loyal Kentuckians await- 
ing them, and the number daily increasing.- 

Nothing looks more peaceful than the first camp of 
new troops, particularly if the men remain long at the 
first rendezvous. Every man gathers about him the 
luxuries of home, and fixes up his quarters as if he 
intended permanently to locate ; and as he adds some 
article of comfort to his mess he never imagines that 
it will not be of service during the whole war, or that 
he cannot carry it or pack it away in the company’s 
wagons. Companies had wagons then. Crackers, 
and pork, and coffee, were the main features of the 
camp ration even at that early day in the war ; but 
who thought of eating the ration as a whole when 
itinerant butchers brought fresh meat to camp daily 
and fresh bread could be had at a few cents a pound? 


CAMP LIFE— A SCOUT. 141 

Venders of tough cakes and doubtful pies made for- 
tunes in our first camps, and purchasers of bacon and 
hard-tack secured those articles at a fearful discount. 
Concocters of lemonade and retailers of other doubt- 
ful drinks always commanded purchasers, and the 
cheap literature and card trade did a flourishing 
business. The camp at Jeffersonville was the heaven 
of dogs, cats, little pigs, and saucy-looking chickens, 
for the men wanted pets, and their tastes in that line 
were variable. Yet the new life on which Robert 
Warren entered was not monotonous, though he 
longed for an advance. There was the daily drill, 
the parade, inspection, guard duty, and camp detail, 
which usually occupied his time. Every moment not 
so occupied was spent in studying tactics, and General 
P. St. George Cooke never had a more faithful stu- 
dent than Robert Warren. Arcliy acted as cook for 
Captain Warren, and as no election had yet been held 
for officers, all the friends messed together without 
any breach of military etiquette. 

During the month of August it was rumored that 
the rebels, who were swarming along the southern 
border of Kentucky, were preparing to advance into 
the State ; but so closely did they guard their lines 
that it was difficult to obtain reliable information. 
At this time Robert Warren was sent into the State 
on detached service, and while he did not like the 
nature of his duties, he was glad to have the monot- 
ony of camp life broken. He returned on the first 
day of September, and reported the enemy preparing 
to violate Kentucky’s neutrality. The information 
he obtained was of the most valuable kind, because 
wholly reliable. Three days after his return. General 


142 


WABIiEN OF TEXAS. 


Polk, at the head of twenty thousand men, ad vane? -d 
into Kentucky, and, with a soldier’s instinct, seized 
the impregnable bluffs in and around Columbus. 
This incident was hailed with joy by the Union Ken- 
tuckians fighting in West Virginia and in camp north 
of the Ohio. Across the river and over the moun- 
tains they poured, and the southern flags so boldly 
displayed in Louisville were withdrawn when that 
bravest of Kentucky’s sons, General Rousseau, at the 
head of his intrepid legion, unfurled the flag of the 
Union and marched south through the streets of the 
city from which he had been virtually a refugee. 
Noble Rousseau, let men speak of thy post helium act3 
as they may, their slander cannot dim thy fame, nor 
blot from the history of thy country the deeds of 
glory written in blood with thy sword. Never doubt- 
ing when duty called ; never wanting when danger 
threatened. 

Camps were soon established for Union troops in 
northern and central Kentucky, and seeing the war 
was upon them, neutrality was thrown aside, and men 
openly ranged themselves for or against the nation. 
Buckner, with the majority of the State G uard, went 
south. Captain Morgan remained in Lexington till 
after the Union troops took possession, never attempt- 
ing to hide his sentiments. Learning one night that 
his arms would be seized next day by a Federal offi- 
cer, with a boldness and cunning characteristic of 
the man, he called a meeting of his company at the 
armory in the center of the town. He told his men 
the time had come to leave. lie proposed starting 
that night, and if there was not a man for every mus- 
ket, he would take the muskets and find men. His 


JOHN MORGAN’S RUSE. 


143 


proposal met with a quick response, and the Rifles 
that night started south from a Federal camp. The 
next morning the news spread that Morgan had gone, 
and troops were sent in pursuit. They returned at 
night congratulating themselves with the capture of 
the two wagons containing the arms. The long boxes 
were unloaded and stored carefully away, and it was 
some time afterwards that on being opened the boxes 
were found to be filled with stones. Morgan had 
prepared the wagons for capture, threw his pursuers 
on the wrong track, and escaped with his rifles. This 
was the first war act of the great raider. Captain 
Bruce, Morgan’s brother-in-law, about the same time 
joined the Union army and raised a regiment. 

The legislature of Kentucky at this time appeared 
to wake up. The secessionists offered a resolution 
asking the northern troops to leave the State, but it 
was lost, and a resolution, introduced by the Union 
men, asking Bishop Polk to withdraw from Kentucky, 
was carried by a large majority. It is needless to 
say that the martial bishop did not obey the request, 
but went on fortifying his post as if he intended to 
remain permanently. 

The post of Camp Dick Robinson, near Danville, 
called after the noble man on whose farm it was es- 
tablished, became the great rendezvous for the Union 
men of the South. Here the regiment to which the 
Warrens and Gaines were attached was stationed, 
though detachments were always on the move, mak- 
ing futile raids in the direction of Humphrey Mar- 
shalls lines, or south with the hope of feeling Zolli- 
coffer’s advance. 

Captain Warren’s company was always on the 


H4 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


move, and while they never had what green soldiers 
desire, yet dread, a brush with the enemy, they got a 
good knowledge of the country to the south, and 
gathered up hundreds of refugees, who were swarming 
in from East Tennessee. It was sad to see those 
men, ragged and footsore, armed with the squirrel rifle 
and shot-gun, creeping into the Union lines. 

One night while in camp in the broken country 
southeast of Crab Orchard, Robert Warren was sta- 
tioned as an advanced vedette about half a mile 
down the road. It was about two o’clock, and unu- 
sually dark. Archy, who sought every opportunity 
of being with his old master, had gone out to the 
post, and was conversing in a whisper, as they stood 
beside their horses. Suddenly they stopped talking. 
Something was moving in the bushes to the left of 
the road. They listened, and heard distinctly two 
persons talking in a low tone and moving cautiously, 
as if to get closer to the vedette. Robert quickly 
unslung his carbine, and, stepping in a stooping pos- 
ture near the bushes, he shouted out : 

“ Halt ! who goes there?” 

No reply came, but two men started from their 
crouching position and ran past him. He called on 
them to halt again, when one of the men turned and 
fired, the ball whistling past Robert’s head. The 
flash had hardly died out when he fired, and a cry of 
pain came from one of the men, and another shot 
from his companion. Robert had his finger on the 
trigger to fire again when a voice called out, “We 
surrender ! we surrender !” 

Calling Archy to advance with the horses, Robert, 
with his pistol cocked, walked to the spot from which 


THE UNFORTUNATE SHOT. 


H5 


he heard the shout, and there found the two men. 
One was lying on the ground groaning, and the other 
was kneeling by his side, wringing his hands and cry- 
ing, 54 Ned, Ned, my boy — my own boy! Oh, God! 
they have killed you !” 

“Who are you?” demanded Warren. 

“We’re from Tennessee, sir,” said the man who 
was kneeling. 

“Yes ; but what is your command? Are there any 
more of your men near here?” asked Eobert. 

“No, sir; only we ’uns. We do n’t belong to no 
command; and my poor Ned — he’s all that’s left, 
sir; an’ he won’t be left long,” said the man, bending 
over the prostrate form. 

“You ’re a rebel, are you not?” asked Eobert. 

“No, sir; no, sir,” replied the kneeling man as he 
tottered to his feet, “ but you are. Yen would n’t ’a 
shot Ned if yeh wuz n’t.” 

The truth flashed upon Eobert. lie felt the cold 
sweat flashing upon his brow. Those men were 
refugees. 

The firing had alarmed the posts to the rear, and 
through them the company w*as soon under arms and 
formed so as to place the fire between them and any 
advancing foe. In a few minutes, a number of men 
who had been sent forward by Captain Warren ar- 
rived, and, learning the state of affairs, they placed 
the wounded man in a blanket, and Archy, with three 
other stalwart fellows, carried him back to camp. 
Eobert was relieved shortly after this, and he ner- 
vously hurried to the fires to ascertain the fate of the 
man whom he had shot. 

He found Captain Warren kneeling over the form 
13 


H6 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


in the blanket, and trying to stop the blood which 
was flowing from the right breast of the wounded boy, 
for such he was. He could not have been over six* 
teen. His form, poorly clad, was very slender, and 
his fair, curly hair was brushed back by the old, grey- 
headed man who moaned by his side. 

Robert, like a great many of the southern planters, 
knew something about medicine and surgery, and, 
though very much agitated, he was soon at work 
examining the wound. The ball had struck the boy 
in the right breast as he was in the act of firing, and, 
glancing around, it came out under his arm. As there 
was no bleeding from the mouth or nose, Robert felt 
encouraged, and knew that the lad was suffering more 
from the shock and the loss of blood than any vital 
injury. Giving him some stimulants, he soon stopped 
the bleeding, and dressed the wound. Blankets were 
not wanting to make a comfortable bed for the little 
fellow close to the fire ; and when he turned and said, 
“ Grandad, I feel all right agin/’ the old man thanked 
God, and wept like a child. 

Captain Warren, with a characteristic thoughtful- 
ness, had supper prepared for the fugitives, and Archy 
never worked more rapidly or willingly than in its 
preparation. The boy ate heartily, wounded as he 
was, and the old man, satisfied by Robert that the 
boy was safe, devoured the food set before him like 
a famished man. After both had eaten, Captain 
Warren brought the old man a pipe, for which he 
seemed grateful, and a number of the men, including 
Gaines, gathered about the group at the fire, while 
the lad closed his eyes and slept. 

“ I am sorry,” said Robert, as he looked from the 


EXPLANATIONS. 


14 " 

blazing logs to the old man’s face, “that I was com- 
pelled to fire at you. You should have halted when 
I challenged you, and you ought not to have fired 
on me.” 

“ That’s true, stranger,” said the old man, “ but I 
reckoned ye wuz rebels. I did n’t ’spect to fine fren’s 
so near.” 

“Why, where were you bound for?” asked the 
captain. 

“ I wuz goin’ to the Union camp,” said the old 
man, “ an’ ’bout an hour afore I met you ’uns, Ned 
an’ I came near runnin’ plum inter a grist of rebels. 
They wuz n’t mor’ ’n a half mile from whar Ned wuz 
shot, an’ I thought when I heard a man holler ter 
halt that it wuz them. Ned an’ I have had a mighty 
tough time a gittin’ here, strangers, an’ I did n’t want 
to be tuck gist when I wuz near over my trouble.” 

“Is this lad your son?” asked Gaines, who drew 
near to the old man. 

“No, stranger; he’s my son’s son. His father’s 
dead. He wuz shot ’bout six weeks gone.” The old 
man’s voice trembled, and he took the pipe from his 
mouth and looked over at the sleeping boy. “ Ned’s 
all that’s left,” he continued. “Thar wuz three more 
of us, but they’ve only left Ned, an’ if 1 hadn’t a 
started whin I did, they’d a’ got us too. We’ve had 
a rough road, strangers.” 

“ I am very sorry, old gentleman, that I have given 
such a painful termination to your journey. But you 
must know I did my duty.” 

“ Sartinly, stranger ; we’uns started the shootin,” 
said the old man ; “ an’ he mout a hit you, all the 
same.” 


148 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The oid man still smoked, and after Archy had 
spread some blankets for him, Robert said : 

“ You must need rest. I have had a bed made for 
you, and while I should like to bear your story I hope 
I may have that pleasure some other time.” 

“ No, stranger ; I’m rested now. I’m ’mong frien’s, 
an’ I feel a load taken frum my heart on his account,” 
* pointing to the sleeping boy. “ I can’t close my eyes 
this night, an’ if it wouldn’t tire yeh, I’ll tell yeh all 
’bout it.” 

The group drew closer to the fire, and the old man 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE OLD MAN’S STORY. 

* We come’d from near the Ham’ cane. Yeh don’t 
know whar the Harricane is? No? Well, mos’ peo- 
ple don’t what I’ve met. Its twenty miles north of 
Cleveland, right close ter Georgia. Reckon, stran- 
gers, none on yeh wuz ever thar? Supposed not, but 
its right smart country roun’ thar. I’ve lived near 
the Harricane nigh on ter fifty year, an’ I wuz a man 
whin I went in thar with my father from North Caro- 
lina. All that section ’bout the Harricane wuz then 
held by Injuns — Cherokees an’ sich. You remember 
they wuz toted wes’ by Ole Hickory. Ole Hickory 
wuz my man. I voted fur him fust, las’, an’ all the 
time. Pity he wasn’t livin’ ! What did yeh ask? 
Yes, I farmed some, but I wuz poor, an’ so wuz the 
ole man ; we never owned niggers, sorry to say. My 
ole woman’s dead. Hez bin nigh onter fifteen year, 
an’ I lived with Ned. Ned wuz my oldest boy. Dan 
and Dick lived clos’ by, an’ did some farmin’ too ; 
they warn’t much at it though. They did right smart 
huntin’ in the mountains, though game ain’t like whin 
f fust went ter the Harricane. Wuz Ned, an’ Dan* 
an’ Dick all my children? No, stranger; I’ve one 
gal livin’, an’ tother one, purty as a peach, died six 
weeks ago. Poor chile, it bruk her heart whin they 
hanged Rill Smith, her husband. Yes, stranger, ’twuz 

12+ 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


rr»o 

the rebels. I’ve got another son in Texas. His 
name’s Jim, but I ain’t seen him since afore the ole 
woman died. He wuz a restless feller, an’ I heard as 
how he got in agin with the Cherokees what used ter 
be roun’ the Harricane when he wuz small. ’Squire 
Roberts tole me he saw in a paper that Jim wuz hung 
in Texas. Shouldn’t wonder, fur they’ve killed all 
my kin but him sleepin’ over thar. Glad to know, 
stranger, yeh think Ned ’ll live. Not that life’s much 
ter me now, but I promised the boy we’d go back ter 
the Harricane an’ revenge his father. 

“I’ll tell you ’uns all ’bout the ’lection. I’d orter 
begun thar, but my mine is all a buzzin,’ an’ I’ve got 
a big load on my heart. I hope, stranger, (looking at 
Robert) you’ll never feel as I have. Me nor the boys 
didn’t know much ’bout politics. We allers voted 
democrat. Yeh know ole Hickory wuz a democrat, 
an’ that ar’s my principle all the time. All our folks 
voted Douglas; reckon that wuz all squar’. Wall, 
glad you uns think so, fur we allers meant right, 
though none on us, ’cept Ned, has got any schoolin’. 
Did yeh ask Ned’s name besides Ned? Yes? Wall, 
it’s Dawn. Dawn’s my name, too. 

“After the ’lection we thought things wuz all right. 
We uns heerd all ’bout Lincoln bein’ President, an’ I 
tole the boys I wuz sorry it wuzn’t Douglas, an’ they 
all ’greed the hull w t uz far, an’ w r e*d git Douglas in 
some other time. 

“ The nex’ thing we know’d the rich white men 
from Coosa an’ Ringgold an’ Chattanooga wuz a holin’ 
meetin s through the country, an’ cryin’ fur w r ar, an* 
sayin’ the time had cum ter bast the Union. I tole 
I im Cheatham, at a meetin’, that woizn’t my doctrine, 


THE OLD MAN’S STORY. 


151 


an’ he stopped an’ called me a traitor, an’ said he’d 
shoot ine. I wuzn’t very much sheered, but the boys, 
knowin’ I’d speak out agin breakin’ the Union, took 
me off. 

“ They had another ’lection, but as it looked like a 
fight, the boys an’ me staid away, fur hundreds an’ 
hundreds of men come over from Georgia, an’ voted 
in Tennessee. Me an’ the boys seed how it wuz. The 
rich men wuz boun’ ter break up the Union, an’ they 
wanted ter make it look as if the people wuz willin’. 
Mos’ of my neighbors roun’ the Harricane didn’t vote, 
fur ’twuzn’t any kinder use. 

“ Wall, after this they began raisin’ sojers, an’ a 
rite smart of young men what know’d nothin’ ’bout 
the Union or secession, fired up an’ went in. My boys 
all thought like me. They wuzn’t agoin’ agin the 
country. One day a feller, callin’ himself Cap’n 
Rusk, with a hull lot more men, come over from Cleve- 
land an’ said he wanted my boys ter list. Thar wuz 
only me an’ Dick home at the time. No, Dick wuzn’t 
manned, he wuz my youngest boy, an’ has been help- 
in’ me since I got ole. Cap’n Rusk said ter me 
when I met him at the door : 

“ ‘Are you ole Dawn?’ 

“ I said I wuz the same. 

%t ‘I uuderstan’,’ said Rusk, ‘that you’re a Yankee 
an’ all yer boys.’ 

“ I tole him I reckoned not, seein’ as I wuz born in 
North Carolina, an’ had lived at Harricane fifty year, 
an’ the boys wuz all riz ’roun’ thar. 

“ ‘ Wall,*’ he said, cussin’ awful, ‘ it don’t matter jes’ 
whar yer mis wuz born ter make yell Yankees. The 
meanest Yankees I knows on is right liar in Tennessee.’ 


J5Z 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ I said I knowed that ’ar wuz true, mosly, fur a lot 
of men who wuz Yankees by birth was now South 
bustin’ up the Union, jes’ coz they owned niggers. 

“ I didn’t mean ter rile Rusk, but he got terrible 
mad, an’ said : ‘ I come clar’ over har ter see you uns, 
an’ if yer boys don’t jine in an’ fight fur the confer- 
acy, we’ll hang ’em shuah.’ 

“ I tole him I reckoned not much would he hang. 
My boys wouldn’t lie ’roun’ an’ let folks hang ’em. 

“ ‘ Whar is yer boys ?’ said Rusk. 

“‘I don’t know,’ says I, ‘but we uns is ’roun’ har 
purty much altogether the hull time.’ 

“ ‘ Then,’ said Rusk, cussin’, ‘ I’ll stay till they come, 
an’ I’ll wait inside this house fur ’em, an’ I’ll sen’ 
men over ter the other houses and catch the hull lot.’ 

“ Then he sent off mos’ of the men ter Dan’s an’ 
Dick’s. Little Ned wuz in my house all the time, an’ 
Dick laid low awaitin’. Now, I owned my own house, 
an’ says I ter myself : * Mr. Rusk, yer not agoin’ ter 
walk right inter my house without I choose ter let 
yeh.’ I ain’t very strong, to be sure, strangers ; les’ 
wise, not so strong as when I wuz young, but I’m jes’ 
’bout as hard to skeer, an’ when Rusk got ofF his crit- 
ter, I picked up a ax near the doali an’ waited. 

“He walked up kinder bold, an’ I waited till he 
come ter the doali, an’ I spread myself out. 

“ ‘ Get outer the way, yeh d — d ole traitor,’ said 
Rusk, catchin’ me an’ pullin me by the collar. 

“ ‘No,’ says I, ‘this is my house, an’ onlessyou uns 
has the law with yeh, yeh can’t go in.’ 

“ While I wuz speakin’ he struck me, an’ I fell agin’ 
the wall a-bleedin’. Dick heerd all an’ seed all, an’ 
he run out jes’ as Rusk cocked his pistol an’ wuz pint- 


THE OLD MAN’S STORY. 


153 


in’ it at me. That wuz enough fur Dick. I seed the 
devil burnin’ in his eyes as he picked up the ax, an’ 
with one hand swung it clar inter Rusk’s head, and he 
fell right afore me. Then Dick tuk hold of me, an’ 
afore I knowed it, we wuz in the house an’ the doali closed. 

“ ‘Now, dad, we uns have ter fight,’ said Dick, an’ 
he run to a winder with his rifle. We’d lots of arms, 
an’ I took my own gun. I’m hard to beat, strangers, 
with a rifle. When we looked out we seed some of 
Rusk’s frien’s a-tryin’ to tote him off, an’ others watch- 
in’ fur us. Jes’ as soon as we showed our heads they 
fired. Then me an’ Dick let drive, an’ I tell yeh, 
frien’s, Rusk’s men didn’t make nothin’ by it, neither. 

“ Wall, Ned thar, (pointing with his pipe to the 
wounded boy,) he loaded the guns fur us, an’ fur nigh 
an hour we had some tall shootin’. Then the res’ of 
Rusk’s men came up a yellin’ an’ cussin’ like mad, an’ 
swarin’ they’d burn the house. Dick saw one of them 
a crawlin’ up with some fire, an’ he jes’ riz ter the winder 
an’ drawed a bead an’ blazed, an’ then I heerd another 
shot, an’ Dick jumped back inter the room an’ fell 
dead with a bullet-hole right over his right eye. 
Strangers, I can’t tell yeh how I felt then, but I didn’t 
grow weaker as I’d a- thought aforehand. Me an’ Ned 
lifted Dick a-one side, an’ Ned took his gun an’ Dick’s 
place at the winder. 

Rimeby, I heerd some shoutin’, an’ Ned looked out 
an’ saw his dad an’ Dan an’ some others a-gallopin’ up 
like mad. I tell yeh, strangers, whin I heerd that I 
purty near dropped. But Rusk’s men jes’ scooted 
when they seed our frien’s. I don’t know how many 
we hit beside Rusk, but a right smart, I reckon, seein’ 
as how thar wuz seven blood-puddles outside. 


154 


VFARREN OF TEXAS. 


‘‘Wall, Dan an’ Ned an’ Bill Smith an’ four others 
of our frien’s came, an’ I showed ’em Dick dead on the 
floor with his eyes open an’ the red blood a-droppin’ 
from his hair. I can’t tell yeh how we all felt. I tole 
the boys jes’ how it stood, an’ we staid thar an’ talked 
and ’vised with one another. Ned’s wife, she wuz 
over with her little girl, Sally, a-seein’ Dan’s wife, 
who’ d had a baby two months afore, an’ when she an’ 
Sally got back, they took on awful. 

“Wall, strangers, I don’t like ter tire yeh, but this 
is the fust chance I’ve had ter talk, an’ it kinder light- 
ens my heart to tell it all over ter frien’s. 

“We knowed thar wuz no kinder use in stayin’ 
aroun’ the Ilarricane, so we left Ned at home with his 
mother, an’ Bill Smith’s wife bein’ far gone an’ skeery, 
he couldn’t leave her, so he staid back too, an’ prom- 
ised Dan ter see to his place till we seed what wuz 
goin’ ter happen. That night we took ter the hills 
an’ staid out a week afore we heard any news. Then 
Role, ’Squire Robert’s nigger, hunted us up an’ tole 
us that the night afore they cotched Bill Smith an’ 
hung him in front of his own house, an’ his wife a-ly- 
ing sick on the bed, and that little Ned, over thar, 
wuz in prison. I’ll tell yeh, strangers, that come hard. 
We all kinder got desprate. We couldn’t live all the 
time in the hills, fur game wuz skeerce, an’ I knowed 
by the tracks in the woods they wuz huntin’ us, an’ 
would tree us bimeby, an’ mayhap hang dan an’ Ned 
without seein’ their wives. As fur me, I jis’ wanted 
ter die, but I thought on Ned, over thar, an’ wanted 
to live fur him. 

“Wall, we ’greed ter go down ter the Ilarricane, 
an’ we got in that night, an’ thar wuz no one aroun* 


THE OLD MAN’S STORY. 


155 


cept our fren’s, an’ had n’t been all day. We went 
asleep. I wuz with Ned ; an’ I tell ye my ole bones, 
like my heart, wanted res’. But I could n’t sleep foi 
thinkin’ of Dick, an’ Bill Smith, an’ poor little Ned, 
over in Cleveland in prison. 

“Afore day jes’ a little we wuz all woke up by men 
a rappin’ an’ a yellin’ at the doah. Ned cum over 
whar I wuz crawlin’ inter my clothes. ‘ Dad,’ says he, 
‘they’ve come fur we uns. I’ll not be tuk. I’ll 
fight till I die.’ 

“ I tole him not to shoot, I wuz sick of blood, an’ 
he might get off without ; but he would n’t hear me. 
Says he, ‘ Dad, I know they ’ve come ter kill, an’ I ’ll 
make ’em pay for it. You lie low while I try ter run 
for it ; an’ if I die, or never get back, take care of 
the two Sals an’ little Ned,’ — meanin’ him. His wife 
tuk on awful ; but ’t was n’t long. I heard him kiss 
the two gals ; then a kinder quick he opened the 
doah, an’ with his rifle clubbed he leaped out. I 
could hear the shots, an’ yells, an’ blows, an’ groans, 
an’ then a cheer from a lot of ’em, like devils, an’ I 
knew Ned wuz killed. 

“ This is the hardest part ter git over, frien’s. No 
one could tell me aforehand I’d a-lived through it. 
They hauled me out an’ showed me the body, and the 
two Sals run out an’ put thar arms aroun’ it, an’ took 
on as if their hearts ’ud break. The day wuz jest a 
clarin’ in when they put handcuffs on me, an’ xhey 
made me walk ter Cleveland, though the sun wuz hot 
an’ my heart seemed like a ton in my breast. 

“ They couldn’t make me feel wus whin they tole 
me Dan wuz dead. He died a fightin’, though, seein’ 
as how I heerd them speak about four dead men, an’ 
I know’d Ned killed two. 


156 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ Wall, when we got ter Cleveland they put me in a 
kinder celler whar thar wuz more prisners, an’ in thar 
wuz little Ned. 

“ Me an’ him staid in thar a month, an’ at night 
he slept in my arms. Yes, they give us plenty ter eat, 
sich as it wuz, but little Ned wanted the sun an’ the 
air. I could see him wiltin’ away afore my eyes. I 
don’t know why they let us out ; thar wuz nine boys 
an’ ole me with us. They’d ’a let me out afore if I’d 
swar to support the Confederacy, but I tole ’em the 
Union cost me too much ter sell out so cheap. 

“ Did yeh ask if any tuk the oath ? Wall, yes, right 
smart. Poor critters, I didn’t blame them. It’s a 
hard thing ter be crowded in the dark, an’ layin’ on a 
cold floor an’ thinkin’ of one’s little ones. 

“ No, they never tried us. Ned an’ I went back ter 
the Harricane, an’ Bill Smith’s wife an’ baby that died 
whin she did, an’ as soon as it wuz born, wuz layin’ in 
the groun’ with her husban’. 

“The two Sals wuz glad ter see us, an’ took on 
right smart. They’d had a tough time, but ’Squire 
Roberts helped them. The ’Squire wuz fur the South, 
but he wuz a good man fur ail. ’Twas he ’vised me 
ter start North, a promisin’ ter take car’ of the two 
Sals. 

“I’ve kept you ’uns up now longer than I’d orter, 
but ’t would take till day fur me ter tell all about the 
rough times me an’ Ned had cornin’ here. We met 
lots of Union men in the mountains, an’ all ’peared 
ter suffered jes’ like us. Six weeks, strangers, we uns 
have been travelin’, hungry an’ footsore an’ sleepy. 
An’ Ned never let down once. Whin I played out 
he toted my gun, an’ whin it wuz cold sleepin’ ir ‘he 


THE OLD MAN SLEEPS. 


157 


mountains he hugged up near an’ put his arms roun’ 
ter keep me warm. 

“ Yer sure Ned ain’t bad hurt?” asked the old man, 
looking earnestly at Robert. 

“Yes, my friend ; lam sure he will soon be all 
right.” 

“ Wall, I feel better than since Dick wuz killed afore 
my eyes. 1 think, now that I’ve got this off my mind, 
1 kin sleep.’ 

So saying, the old man lay down on the blankets 
Arcliy had prepared, and was soon sleeping as soundly 
as little Ned. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


PREPARING FOR ACTIVE SERVICE. 

A few days after the incidents narrated in the pre- 
vious chapter, Captain Warren returned with his com- 
pany to Camp Dick Robinson. There little Ned was 
placed under the care of an Army surgeon and the 
old man’s heart was made glad by the prospect of the 
speedy recovery of his boy. 

Eighteen hundred and sixty-one passed slowly away 
leaving behind its record of humiliating defeat to the 
Union forces. More than one sanguine heart began 
to feel the gloom that hung over the nation, and none 
fully appreciated the task that lay before the national 
forces. Though Robert Warren had benefited by his 
six months training in camp and on the scout, he 
longed to be brought in direct contact with the 
enemy ; not that he courted danger, but he knew that 
fierce battles must be fought, and the sooner the bet- 
ter. This desire possessed all the troops in that por- 
tion of Kentucky, and they hailed with joy the rumor 
that passed through the camp early in January, 1862 , 
that they were to move south against Zollicoffer. 
The southern general, with his Tennessee, Mississippi, 
and Alabama brigades, at the same time threatened 
an advance in force, and it was soon evident that a 
collision would take place. 

On the 16 th of the momh W*r**e*V* \<wi>s>x\y tem- 


ON THE SKIRMISH LINE. 


159 


porarily attached to the First Cavalry, was sent out to 
picket the approaches near Logan’s Cross Roads, a 
few miles north of the Cumberland River, along which 
the enemy were strongly encamped. There is no la- 
bor so trying to green troops as picketing close to the 
enemy, particulaly when they know them to be strong 
and their own support weak. 

As Captain Warren stationed his men he said to 
Robert, who was in charge of one of the posts : 

“ Sergeant, you are about to have your wish. If 1 
am not mistaken you are on the scene of your first 
battle.” 

“Yes, and perhaps his last,” said Gaines, in a 
tremulous voice. 

“ I have prayed for this day, Captain,” said Robert, 
“ and if we fail it will not be my fault.” 

While he spoke his lips grew firmer, and an ashy 
pallor came over his face. It was evident he was 
controlling some strong feeling, no doubt fear, but he 
did control it, and turned his face toward the camp 
of the foe. 

During the afternoon and night there was no firing, 
but the cold weather, the miserable roads, and the 
proximity of the enemy were more trying than an 
actual fight. On the following morning General 
Thomas came up with five regiments and ordered the 
cavalry to push beyond Logan’s Cross Roads, in the 
direction of Mill Springs. They had advanced but a 
short distance when the line was halted and a skirm- 
ish line formed. Robert at first thought it an un- 
necessary precaution of his captain, but he had hardly 
dismounted and advanced to position before he saw 
a long, thin line of gray advancing from the wood* 


160 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


in the direction of Fishing Creek. The enemy came 
up within four hundred yards, and as they approa died 
Robert Warren felt a lump rising in his throat, and a 
cold perspiration stood in great beads on his fore- 
head. He tried to keep cool, but the hand that held 
his carbine trembled, and his teeth chattered as he 
bit the cartridge. He looked to his left, and there 
stood Gaines, with an expression of age on his face, 
and beyond him little Ned, evidently cooler and 
happier than any man in the line. The skirmish line 
of the enemy halted, and little puffs of smoke were 
seen to come from their pieces, followed by the sharp 
whistle of the balls and the subsequent report of 
the arms. The sound took a load from Robert War- 
ren’s heart, and his nerves grew steadier, but as he 
raised his carbine to fire he could not draw a bead, 
and a haze seemed to surround his weapon. He had 
often shot a deer, off hand, at five hundred yards, 
and it was not considered by him a wonderful ex- 
ploit. Now he fired at a mark equally good, and 
recovered his carbine to watch the result, but there 
stood the rebel skirmisher coolly loading his gun, 
and evidently unaware of the desperate attempt on 
his life. This harmless firing continued for some 
time, and there was an evident desire on both sides 
to get closer together. The enemy advanced a hun- 
dred yards to a scrubby fence, and their deliberate 
firing soon told— one of Warren’s men fell shot 
through the head. The enemy were dislodged by a 
flank movement of a company of the Tenth Indiana, 
and then a common feeling of humanity and curiosity 
drew the cavalry around their dead comrade, the 
first man they had seen killed in battle. They leaned 


WAR A TERRIBLE THING.” 


161 


on theL arms, officers and men, and, with pale faces, 
watched the little stream of blood trickling from the 
soldier’s forehead. Even the cool Captain Warren 
looked agitated, and joined in the expressions of 
regret. This unmilitary proceeding was speedily 
ended by the enemy’s firing on the group, and the 
old positions were taken. The enemy, under cover 
of an old log barn, got still nearer to the Union 
skirmish line, and two men were wounded, and be- 
came objects of curiosity and wonder to their comrades 
in reserve. Captain Warren saw the enemy’s advan- 
tage, and sent Lieutenant Tucker with twenty men 
to dislodge them. The lieutenant made a detour, 
and,, taking advantage of a ravine, he struck the 
enemy in the log-building unexpectedly, and drove 
them out pell-mell. Tucker’s men cheered lustily, 
and were evidently delighted over something besides 
taking the barn. The whole line advanced, but it 
did not retain much order after nearing the building, 
for Tucker’s men hailed them with the cry of “ Two 
dead rebtls ! two dead rebels !” The men went over 
the fence in great glee, and without order, to see this 
wonderful sight. Sure enough, there, in front of the 
building, lay two men in gray, one dead and the other 
faintly trying to swallow the water which one of 
Tucker’s men held to his lips, but his efforts ceased 
in a few seconds, and with a sigh he fell back dead. 
As they clustered around their dead enemies, there 
were no expressions of delight ; wonder and sorrow 
seemed depicted on every face ; and Gaines, who had 
placed his hand over the heart of one of the men, 
expressed the feelings of his comrades when lie said, 
“War is a terrible thing.” 

14 * 


162 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Captain Warren soon saw that it would not do to 
let his men run along the line every time a comrade 
was killed, or gather in groups to see a fallen enemy, 
so he again formed his line, but only to fall back 
before the rebels, who now advanced with the confi- 
dence of superior numbers. 

The Union picket line was forced back towards 
Logan’s Cross Roads, till dark, though there was no 
more fighting that day. As Robert Warren lay in his 
tent that night he could not sleep, but tossed nervously 
about on his blanket, and when he dozed he would 
r,ee before him the dead comrade with the blood 
oozing from his forehead, and the men in grey lying 
dead with their glazed eyes looking up at him. 

As he tried to change the current of his thoughts 
by thinking on other subjects, the fly of his tent was 
raised and Archy crawled in on hands and knees. 

“ Is that you Archy ? Why are you not asleep ?” 
asked Robert, as he sat up on his blanket and pulled 
bis overcoat, which answered for a pillow, with his 
boots, under his arm to support him. 

“ Mauss Robut, I didn’t want to ’sturb yell,” began 
.Archy, “ but I’ve suthin’ ter say.” 

“Well, Archy, out with it,” said Robert, seeing that 
Archy hesitated. 

“I’se just come up frum de kernel’s, wliar I wuz 
talkin’ wid his boy Jake, and I heard ’em say dat 
dare’d be an awful fight to-morrow,” said Archy in an 

amazed voice. 

“What?” asked Robert with a laugh, “did Jake 
say that, or the colonel?” 

“No, marse, de kernel. Him an’ a lot more officers 
wuz at the fire, an clar to Heaven, I felt my har risin’ 


“ ’BACKER ’LL DO IT. 


165 


when dey spoke about de fight, and de lots ob dead 
and de bullances fur de wounded, an de fearful times. 
I wish sartin we was back at Jeff ’sonville agin.” 
Archy said this sentence as if he meant it. 

Robert tried to console him, but made the matter 
worse by saying “ you need not feel frightened, 
Archy, you will be away to the rear, where there is 
no danger.” 

“Mauss Robut, I ain’t skerry. Reckon yeh knows 
dat, but I’se frighten’ sartin ’bout yeh; I’se been a 
prayin’ as I come har yeh’d be right smart sick afore 
mornin’ — backer’ll do ’t, I heard a man say so in the 
company.” 

As Archy concluded his queer suggestion, Robert 
laughed so as to waken Gaines, whose snoring had 
hitherto shown that he was asleep. 

“ Why, what’s the matter?” asked Gaines in surprise, 
as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning, and 
Robert, despite Archy’ s “ please mauss, don’t,” related 
the merit of tobacco as a producer of sickness, and 
Archy’s suggestion about using it. 

“That’s a very praiseworthy idea, Archy,” said 
Gaines laughing, “but if every man uses it who is 
scary, this army will be the sickest lot of men on 
top of the earth to-morrow, if there is tobacco enough 
to go around.” 

“Well, ’pears dar’s no use in talkin’,” said Archy, 
rising to go, “ seems yell’s both boun’ fur ruin. Wid de 
help ob de Lor’, I’ll pray to-night, and I’ll beg at de 
Trone when yell’s in de battle. Good night, Mauss 
Robut and Mauss Andy.” And Archy stole out, 
followed by the good-night of his friends. 

How soundly soldiers usually sleep after the long 


164 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


march or agitating picket, and how utterly wretched the 
feeling is when before day on a cold winter morning 
the rat-tat-tat of the “ long roll,” with its increasing 
velocity of sound from a score pf drums, startles the 
sleepers, and the bugle call of “ boots and saddles” 
awakens the weary riders. Old troops never heaCr it 
without a curse, and to new troops the unsuspected 
“ long-roll” sounds like a death-knell. 

On the early morning of the 19th the alarm call 
rung through the camp at Logan’s Cross Roads, and 
the excited, half-rested little army hurried into stiff 
boots and wrinkled clothes, and, seizing their wea- 
pons, stood ready for action. Captain Warren’s 
company was retained with General Thomas, and the 
battalion of the First hurried to the support of the 
videttes at a gallop. News came in that the enemy 
was advancing in force. Quick as thought the tents 
were struck and loaded, and the wagons sent to the 
rear. Through the thoughtfulness of the officers, 
coffee had been prepared for the men, and, after the 
camp was cleared, they gathered in groups about the 
fire and swallowed the thick, refreshing beverage 
from their tin cups and ate with a relish their dry 
hard-tack. It is well to pray, but bad to fight on an 
empty stomach. 

Before six o’clock, and still dark, the advanced 
cavalry were struck and fell back before the enemy. 
The Tenth Indiana and Fourth Kentucky pushed on 
rapidly to support them, and General Thomas, giving 
directions to the Tennesseeans under Carter, and 
McCook of the Ninth Ohio, rode with his staff at a 
gallop to the front. Captain Warren’s company had 
not been moved, and his men stood by their horses 


THE BATTLE ON ONCE MORE. 


65 


nervously listening to the battle, and roll, and shout, 
from the front. Just as Van Cleve’s Second Minne- 
sota passed Warren’s company, an aid galloped up 
and ordered him to advance and take a position on 
the left of Kinney’s battery, which was stationed in a 
corn-field towards the left of the line. This order 
was hailed with a shout, and Captain Warren reached 
his position and dismounted his men in time to see a 
grey column dashing across the field against Fry’s 
Kentuckians. Kinney opened fire as the enemy came 
parallel to his guns, and they fell back in disorder. 
Then began a tempest of fire from the rebel lines, 
accompanied by shrill yells. Carter took position in 
the rear of Kinney, and for one hour the two lines, 
within musket range, poured in terrific volleys of mus- 
ketry, while the artillery tore great gaps in the 
opposing columns. Under Carter’s fire the enemy 
began to give way. Then a deafening cheer was 
heard to the right of Carter’s brigade, and Major 
Kammerling, at the head of the Ninth Ohio with 
fixed bayonets, rushed upon the confused rebels and 
swept them from that portion of the field. As Robert 
saw the gallant Ohioans dashing across the field, all 
his impulses were to mount and join in, but he had to 
await orders. The enemy rallied in irregular masses, 
and for about twenty minutes concentrated a fire of 
musketry and artillery on the troops immediately in 
front. The ammunition ran short in several regiments 
on the Union right, but they stood exposed like vet- 
erans till served, and then the order came from Gen- 
eral Thomas for the whole line to advance, and a 
cheer that made the heart leap came in response. 
Into the saddle leaped the cavalry. Robert had time 


166 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


to Jo- k to the left, when the Fourth Kentucky seemed 
completely mixed up with the enemy on the road. 
Directly in front of Captain Warren the Twentieth 
Tennessee rebel was falling back in confusion, and the 
order was given to charge them. Quick as a flash, 
the sabers were drawn, and the horses with swift 
bounds rushed upon the enemy. There was no order 
in the line, but it dashed, an irregular, irresistible, mass 
upon the demoralized foe. Robert felt as if his veins 
were on fire, as he heard the cheers of the men around 
and saw on every side the shattered enemy reeling, 
bleeding, and flying — turning at times to discharge 
their pieces in their flight. That feeling was worth a 
life* time of pain. A number of prisoners were sent 
to the rear, and Captain Warren was still pushing after 
the Tennesseans, when he was halted by an aid and 
ordered to the Somerset road. He fell back, exposed 
to a fire from the rebel artillery, and on gaining the 
road he learned that General Zollicoffer was lying 
dead in front of the Fourth Kentucky, where Colonel 
Speed S. Fry had encountered and shot him. There 
was but little fighting after this. The rebels fled, 
throwing away their arms and covering the road with 
piles of useless baggage, which old soldiers never 
carry. The wounded lay in the fence corners by 
scores, and the dead were scattered along the roads 
and in the woods. This indeed was a battle and a 
victory, and as the horsemen pushed towards the Cum- 
berland, picking up stragglers and removing obstruc- 
tions from the path of the pursuing army, Robert 
felt that die flag was approaching the Brazos. 

The retreat of the shattered rebel army into Tennes- 
see under Crittenden has become a matter of history. 


THE VICTORY OF MILL SPRINGS. 


167 


and small as was the battle of Mill Springs compared 
with subsequent engagements, it will still stand promi- 
nent as the initial victory of the war. It solved the prob- 
lem of sectional valor and falsified the southern boast 
of superiority. Four regiments, the Tenth Indiana, 
Fourth Kentucky, Second Minnesota, and Ninth Ohio, 
bore the brunt of the battle, and by their persistent 
valor routed an army of twelve thousand men, who 
the day before the contest deemed themselves a match 
for forty thousand “Yankee hirelings.’ * 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE SITUATION AFTER THE BATTLE. 

After the defeat of the enemy at Mill Springs, or 
Somerset, or Logan’s Cross Load — for the fight is 
known by all those names in the North, and as Fishing 
Creek in the South — all southeastern Kentucky was 
evacuated by the Confederates. It is said that 
Humphrey Marshall had a force near Cumberland 
Gap, but as that Quixotic individual was too fat to 
ride on horseback and too unwieldy to march on foot, 
he was forced to retreat in a buggy into Tennessee 
before Garfield’s Ohioans. 

Buell and Grant, in the western part of the State, 
were busy to improve the advantage gained by Gen- 
eral Thomas. Grant was coming up the Ohio from 
Cairo, and proposed to ascend the Tennessee and Cum- 
berland rivers with his forces and Foote’s gunboats. 
Mitchell was pushed out toward Bowling Green, and 
evidences of an active campaign were seen on every 
hand. 

A few days after the fighting at Mill Spring, Ser- 
geant Robert Warren was somewhat astonished by an 
orderly’s informing him that General Thomas wished 
to see him at his headquarters. Robert spent a few 
minutes attiring himself in a soldierly way, and re- 
ported to General Thomas, whose headquarters were 
in a house near by. lie was admitted at once and 


WARREN AT HEADQUARTERS. 


169 


found the commanding officer and General Schoepf 
busy looking over a map. General Thomas returned 
Robert’s salute, and then said : 

“ I understand, sergeant, you are from Texas and 
familiar with the South and its people. 5 ’ 

The general waited for a reply, and Robert answered, 
“ I am, sir. 55 

“ I learn also, 55 continued the general, looking up 
from his map, 44 that you made several very success- 
ful reconnoisances toward the enemy’s lines, and even 
inside of them last summer. 55 

44 I acted on detached service for a while, sir, and I 
think the information I obtained was reliable,” said 
Robert, looking at the general, whose eyes were bent 
on the map. 

44 Sergeant, what educational advantages have you 
had, what is your profession, and what were you en- 
gaged in before the war?” 

Robert briefly related his business, giving a short 
sketch of his leaving Texas, and concluded : 4 4 1 studied 
engineering, particularly, when at college, in the hope 
of being able to make the profession useful in Texas.” 

44 You are just the man General Buell wants, and 
about whom he has written.” The general hesitated 
a moment, and looked down at his map ; then glancing 
quickly up, he continued : 44 Sergeant, it should be the 
desire of every good man to aid our cause by every 
means in his power.” 

44 Yes, sir ; by every honorable means,” said Robert. 

4 4 Exactly,” said the general with emphasis. 44 Now, 
you must know — at least I do — that you can be im- 
mediately of more service to the country in another 
position than that of carrying a saber in the ranks.” 

15 


1?0 


OF TEXAS. 


“ I don’t understand you, sir. I prefer to be a pri- 
vate/’ 

“And there is no more honorable position than a 
private’s,” said the general, getting up from his chair. 

“ But I desire you to aid us, sergeant, by becoming 
attached to our present very imperfect secret service.” 

“Do you mean as a spy, sir?” asked Robert, color- 
ing to his temples. 

“ Sergeant, many give the members of the service 
that name, but in military matters we are all spies ; 
our object is to learn all about the enemy and cover 
our own acts. Every means taken to do so, if success- 
ful, is legitimate. I can say that I would not hesitate 
to enter the enemy’s lines, feeling sure a great advan- 
tage, and a consequent saving of life, could be gained 
by it. Now, sergeant, are you willing, knowing the 
dangers, to take a risk for the sake of our cause ?” 

Robert toyed nervously with the tassel of his sword- 
knot, his eyes cast on the ground. All were silent 
for nearly a minute ; then he looked full at the gen- 
eral, and answered : “I am.” 

“That is good. Report here for orders in one 
hour.” 

Robert hastened to Captain Warren’s tent and 
related to him his interview with General Thomas, 
and his decision to obey his request , for no officer 
could command an enlisted man to do such service. 

“ You are going on a dangerous mission, cousin 
Robert,” said the captain, “but I feel you can do our 
cause great good. I will, no doubt, see you soon, as 
it is reported we are going to join General Buell. 
You must write me, however, by every opportunity, 
Now, cousin, sorry as I am to part with you, I will 


IN THE SECRET SERVICE. 


171 


help to get you off.” Stepping to the door, he called, 
“Archy, come here, your master wants to see you.” 

Archy came in, his sleeves rolled up, and his black 
face shining from exposure to the camp-fire, where he 
had been cooking. 

, “Archy, I am going away for some time, and I am 
sorry that I cannot have you with me. At least, not 
at present. You must take good care of the captain 
and of your horse till I get back,” said Robert, look- 
ing up kindly at the faithful fellow. 

“ Mauss Robut, Pd radder go, sartin. Mauss Allen 
has heaps o’ men to kar fur him, an ye h’ve none but 
me. I does n’t want to part wid yeh, Mauss Robut.” 
Archy was evidently agitated, and the cousins tried 
to console him with the hope that he would soon see 
Robert again, and that his stay would be very short. 
The captain promised, in addition, to read him every 
letter his master wrote. 

Archy said but little in reply. At the request of 
his master, Don was speedily saddled, and the few 
articles of clothing necessary for the journey folded 
in the saddle-bags. 

A few minutes before the time to report to General 
Thomas, Robert bade his friends good-bye, and mount- 
ing Don, who looked fit for the commander of all 
the armies to bestride, he rode to the headquarters. 
As Robert entered, the general looked up with a 
pleased expression, and handed him a letter to Gen- 
eral Buell. Then, giving him instructions as to trans- 
portation and transit papers, the general shook hi s 
hand, and Robert Warren passed out of the tent. 

His transportation, as he desired, enabled him to 
take his horse. A two days’ ride took him to N icliolas 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


r/t 

villw* s, nd in seven hours he was in Louisville, where 
he r^orted to General Buell. Here Robert under- 
went another examination, and was somewhat sur- 
prised when General Buell told him he must report at 
once to General Grant, then at Paducah. Steamboat 
transportation was provided to Paducah, with a letter 
in cipher to General Grant. Before twenty-five hours, 
Robert was at Grant's headquarters, awaiting further 
instructions. General Grant read his letters from 
Thoma-4 and Buell, and taking a keen survey of Robert, 
he seeMed satisfied. 

“Aru you acquainted with the Eighth Texas Cav- 
alry ? — Rangers, I think they call themselves," asked 
the general. 

“Ytn, sir; they are commanded by Colonel Terry, 
of Ric imond, Texas." 

“ Exactly." 

Robert continued : “ I am familiar with every foot 
of ground where the regiment was raised, and know 
many of the men." 

“An acquaintance with the individuals is no advan- 
tage," said the general. Then waiting a moment, he 
asked, “Bo you know General Buckner, or Floyd, 
or Hanson." 

“No, sir." 

“I am glad you don’t. Yesterday some of my 
scouts captured a mail intended for General Buckner 
and his Kentuckians at Fort Bonelson. The mail 
carrier is here, safe. Ilis name is Turner. You can 
take the mail in his place.” 

The general looked up quickly at Robert, and 
evinced no disappointment at the pallor which over- 
spread his face. 


CARRYING THE REBEL MAIL. 


173 


“With your instructions, sir, I will try,” said Rob- 
ert, a perceptible tremor in his voice. 

“Very well. Now get rested, and I will prepare 
your instructions. Read and burn them after you 
have read them. Be guided in the details by your 
own good sense,’*’ The general called Lieutenant 
Owen, who took charge of Robert, providing him with 
quarters and refreshments. Robert had a rest for five 
or six hours, when Lieutenant Owen brought him his 
instructions. They were to enter Fort Donelson 
with the mail and ascertain the strength of Pillow’s 
command ; the location and strength of the batteries, 
and every other fact that might be of importance. 
He was to return along the river till he met General 
Grant, and communicate what he knew. He was 
provided with money and an exact copy of Turner’s 
safeguard, excepting, the name. 

Just as it was growing dark, Robert was in the sad- 
dle and his horse’s head turned South. He had 
doubts about taking Don, but knowing he could rely 
on him if speed and bottom were necessary, he pre- 
ferred him to the horse Lieutenant Owen desired him 
to ride. 

From Paducah he pushed on to Clear Springs. 
There, crossing the Cumberland by a ferry, he found 
himself at daylight outside the Union lines, and in 
the scouting grounds of the dreaded Texan Rangers. 

He stopped at a double-log shanty on the bank, 
surrounded by little log corn-cribs, stables, and hen- 
house, and log fences inclosed the stump-covered 
fields about the place. His nose, if not his eyes, 
could detect the vicinity of loggy pigs in the square 
log pen near the house, outside of which was a shallow, 
15 * 


574 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


green poo], where a number of ducks were deluding 
themselves by going through the motions of a wash, or 
standing on their short legs and making comical efforts 
at diving. A wagon with dirty red wheels stood before 
the door, and the wheels answered as pegs for the 
rusty, broken harness that trailed to the ground. A 
harrow, with several teeth out, leaned against the 
trough, which was partially filled with brownish water 
from the clap-boarded roof of the shanty ; and where 
the water trickled from the trough three children, 
very dirty and apparently of one age and sex, sat 
about the pool, earnestly instructing each other in 
the manufacture of that article which im aginative 
children delight to form, when privileged to do as 
they please on the ground — mud pies. 

As Robert dismounted before the door, a tall, raw- 
boned man, with a round fur cap, bald in front, and a 
shirt open at the throat and rolled up at the sleeves, 
displaying his freckled arms covered with reddish 
hair, greeted him with, “ Hello, stranger ! ” 

“ Good morning, sir,” said Robert. “Gan I have 
my horse fed here, and get some breakfast for my- 
self? ” 

The proprietor, for such he proved to be, stroked 
his red beard, squirted a red stream from his mouth, 
and leaning on the red wagon- wheel with one of his 
muddy boots raised on the spoke, said : 

“Stranger, we’ve done a right smart of feedin’ of 
folks of late. Pm willin’ to keer fur yeh, reckonin’ as 
how yer right, but I don’t know ’bout Moll.” 

“ I am willing to pay you liberally, sir, for any 
accommodations,” said Robert, dismounting. 

The long man, with a mysterious air, motioned 


MOLL, THE “SNORTER.” 


17 ? 


Robert to follow him, and getting to windward of the 
pig-pen, he turned, and in a hoarse, mysterious whisper, 
said : 

“ Stranger, I reckon yer one of ’em?” 

Robert assured him that he was, though he did not 
clearly comprehend who the others were. 

“Wall, I knowed yeh wuz one of ’em/’ said the 
long man, “ coz they’s bin round har right sharp of 
late. But, stranger, Moll hates ’em like hell.” 

Robert assured him that he regretted this feeling 
on the part of Moll, and intimated that a liberal pay- 
ment for anything they did for him might pour oil on 
the disturbed waters of Moll’s temper. 

“No, stranger, you don’t know Moll as I dowho’ve 
lived with her nigh onto ten year,” said the long 
man in a still lower whisper. 

Robert lowered his voice and artlessly said, “ That’s 
true,” which statement he might freely make, as he 
had never set his eyes on the terrible Moll, and but 
imperfectly understood her relations to the long man. 

“ Yer right thar, stranger,” said the long man, as 
if Robert had delivered a lengthy opinion on Moll’s 
character after years of close study. 

“But,” he continued, “why are yeh har ’lone? 
You fels don’t often go ’lone? ” 

Robert did not appear to heed the question, but 
asked, in a hurried whisper : 

“ When were any others here before, and which way 
did they go ? ” 

“ Yisterday, stranger. That’s why Moll’s so riled 
this morn in’. I think they said they wuz goin’ down 
toward Bowlin’ Green soon, but yeh knows more about 
that than me.” 


176 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Robert said, “To be sure,” though he wished in his 
soul he could say so in fact. Of one thing, however, 
he was satisfied, namely, that the long man was a 
rebel in his sympathies, and that by his allusions to 
“them” he meant scouting parties from the southern 
army. He told him without reserve that he was 
going to Fort Donelson, and that he had a mail for 
General Buckner and his men from their friends 
inside the Yankee lines. He informed the long man 
that he was not acquainted with the country to the 
South, and that after he and his horse had been rested, 
he would pay the long man to place him on the right 
road, adding in a tone of great confidence, as he laid 
his hand on the red, hairy arm of his listener : 

“ I must get to Donelson by to-morrow night, and 
it would n’t do to tell everybody my business. It is so 
hard to trust men now.” 

“Cussed ef yeh ain’t right,” said the long man, 
spitting with emphasis through the logs of the pig- 
pen, to the evident disgust of the porker into whose 
eye the discharge went. “ Cussed ef yeh ain’t right. 
Now there’s Moll, stranger, don’t trus’ Moll if yeh 
valley quiet. Moll’s a snorter.” 

Robert promised not to place implicit reliance in 
Moll, nor take the adder-like “snorter” to his bosom, 
which statement satisfied the long man, for he imme- 
diately led the way to the log, earth-floored cabin, 
called a stable, and while Robert unsaddled the gal 
lant Don, the long man filled the rack with fodder 
and the little log trough in front of it with corn 
This done, the long man said to Robert : 

“ Reckon, stranger, yer right smart hungry. TT1 
go and bust it to Moll. Lay low.” 


A FAMILY SET-TO. 


177 


This advice to “lay low ” Robert promised to follow 
by remaining in the stable, while the long man walked 
out with a brisk air of confidence, which he lost as he 
approached the double-log shanty, for his motion was 
hesitating, and before entering he tried to whistle as 
he adjusted the ragged harness on the red wagon 
wheel, and cast troubled looks at the log stable and 
the cabin. He entered, and Robert heard a loud and 
excited female voice in the double-log cabin, and the 
long man’s voice two octaves lower, trying to soothe 
his angered wife, for such Robert thought must be her 
relation to the long man, as only a wife could address 
him in the familiar manner of the loud-voiced female. 
He heard the long man say “money” and the snorter 
“bosh” and “yer a darned lunkhead.” After an 
exchange of these loving epithets for some time, the 
woman’s voice lowered perceptibly, and the long man, 
looking very red in the face, and chewing tobacco 
with a wonderful energy, emerged from the shanty 
and went to the stable. He greeted Robert with a 
hoarse and excited whisper : 

“I fotched Moll, stranger. She’s knuckled right 
under.” 

Robert said “I’m glad to hear it,” and intimated 
that he would be glad to learn how this much-desired 
result was produced. 

“Wall,” said the long man, “I tole her I’d be 

d — d” Here he was interrupted by a call from 

Moll, but seeing he had stopped his sentence at a point 
which might leave an erroneous impression on the 
mind of his listener, he finished his sentence as he 
walked to the door : “ ef I would n’ t join the Tex- 
ans. And what do yeh ’spose Moll said, stranger?” 


78 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Robert gave up the conundrum at once. 

“ Wall, she said I’d be d— d ef I did. But that 
fetched Moll. When she gets on her high horse Pve 
got the dead wood on her an’ swear I’ll join the 
Texans.” 

As the long man showed his fur cap at the stable 
door, the snorter called to him in a loud voice to 
“ hurry up his stumps and bring along the stranger.” 

Robert intimated as he approached the house that it 
would be very agreeable to wash, a sentiment the long 
man did not seem to appreciate, for he answered, “ Jes’ 
as you say, stranger,” and forthwith produced a rusty 
tin wash-basin, with a thick, stubby handle on one 
side. He filled it with water from the trough and 
placed it on a square-topped stump, near the mud-pie 
factory of the little snorters. 

Robert informed the long man, as he looked at his 
hands, that soap was desirable ; when the long man 
said, “Moll is death on soap,” and hurried into the 
shanty, from which he soon emerged with a dirty 
saucer half filled with a sort of brown molasses, or 
gangrened jelly, for it smelled very loud, and glis- 
tened on the surface with sickly-looking, prismatic 
colors. The long man ventured the self-evident in- 
formation that “the soap was soft,” and that “Moll 
made it,” as he laid the saucer on the stump before 
the fastidious stranger. 

After washing, the long man selected an oasis on a 
long, dirty towel, under the belief that the spot 
selected w&s clean, and Robert went through the 
motions of drying, then entered tne cabin. There 
was a dense smoke inside and a stifling smell of 
burning bacon. In the center of the floor stood a 


“ COMED FRUM FUR.” 


179 


£able supplied with blue-bordered stone ware. From 
an open-faced cupboard that was tilted back at the 
top against the shanty walls, strips of leather bord- 
ered the cupboard shelves, and the strips w r ere orna- 
mented at set distances with brass-headed nails. The 
nails were useful as well as dazzling, for they served 
to keep the spoons of various sizes and materials 
apart, which were hung by the necks in the black 
leather straps. There was a huge fire-place at one 
end of the shanty, and two monstrous andirons 
flanked a Dutch oven on the hearth. Through the 
door, looking into the other wing of the double-log 
shanty, a glimpse of the floor, covered with a confused 
mass of bed-clothing, like an agitated sea, could be 
caught, while Moll, like a siren, stood amid the 
woolen waves with a piece of glass in her large hand, 
evidently satisfied with the charms on which the stran- 
ger was soon to look. 

Moll soon appeared, a large, full-faced woman, with 
black hair and eyes, and an open mouth that dis- 
played the jagged ruin of what might once have been 
a very fine set of teeth. She was about thirty years 
of age, and her straight, baggy-looking, brown woolen 
dress served rather to show than conceal her Amazo- 
nian form. As she entered she addressed Robert in 
a loud but not a disagreeable voice, ‘ ‘ Mornin’ , stran- 
ger ! Corned frum fur?” 

“ Good morning, madam. I have come from the in- 
terior of the State,” answered Robert, meekly. 

“See any Union men up your way?” asked Moll, as 
she opened the Dutch oven and took out a pile of 
brown corn dodgers. Robert intimated that he saw a 
few at times, when Moll, who hastily removed the lid 


180 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


of the overflowing coffee-pot, with the skirt of her 
dress about her hand to prevent it being burned, said 
with energy, “Union men — them’s me, Pm a Union 
man” This was rather startling information, but 
Robert, supposing she used the word “man” in a 
generic sense, ventured to say he “knew a great 
many fine people who favored the Union.” This 
statement had a softening influence on Moll, who 
soon commenced breakfast. The meal was not tempt- 
ing, but Robert, who sat near Moll while she poured 
out the coffee, and handed dodgers and bacon to the 
little snorters under the table, enjoyed his meal, and 
praised Moll’s skill as a cook. The long man, whose 
red beard glistened with pork gravy, corroborated 
Robert’s opinion by stating “Moll could discount 
any woman on the river.” 

After breakfast Robert went to the stable, accom- 
panied by the long man, and finding that the horse 
was doing well, he sat down on a log and enjoyed a 
smoke, while he obtained all the information he 
could about the Texans and the road up the river 
towards Donelson, with which the long man was 
evidently well acquainted. The long man, after 
Robert had learned all he could by questions, ven- 
tured the information that Moll was from Indiana 
and down on secession. In proof of this, he cited the 
following fact : “ Thar wuz some Texans har a few 
days gone to dinner. One of ’em named Townsend 
tole Moll he was born North, an’ I swar to gracious I 
thought she’d spring an’ strangle him. As it was, kin- 
der accident like, she spilled the coffee-pot down his 
back, an’ I reckon it didn’t make him any more com- 
fortable for it.” 


“THEM’S MY SPONS!” 


181 


After a few hours’ rest, Robert signified his inten- 
tion to push on, and going to the house with the long 
man he asked him at the door how much he owed 
him. The long man looked down and said in a low 
tone : “ Yeh owe me nothin’.” Moll overheard him, 
and shouted out : 

“Nothin’, yeh loot? Am I a-goin’ to mess and 
slave fur nothin’ ? Bill Grimes, are you goin’ to take 
bread out of your own childrens’ mouth an’ give it 
away fur nothin’ ? Not much, while I boss this shanty,” 
said Moll, answering her own question. “You’ve gin 
enough to them Texas brutes, what’s so fond of pork. 
But I settled with one. Now, stranger,” addressing 
Robert, “ fork me over ten dollars,” and Moll assumed 
a threatening attitude, as if about to enforce her 
order, while she reached out one muscular hand for 
the money. 

Robert opened his pocket-book and handed her ten 
dollars in Confederate paper. 

“Do you call that money?” asked Mrs. Grimes, in- 
dignantly throwing the bill on the ground. “ Give 
me ten dollars in jingling cash, or ye’ll never git yer 
saddle agin. I’ve took care of that !” 

“ Moll don’t be a foo don’t be so funny,” said 

the long man, correcting himself. “The stranger’s 
money’s good.” 

“ Yes ; good to light the fire. Come, stranger, fork 
over,” said Moll, more peremptory than before. 

Robert laughed and handed her two five-dollar gold 
pieces, which mollified the snorter, for she said : 
“ Them’s my spons !” and immediately went to the 
well, down which Robert’s saddle was hanging by a 
rope. 


16 * 


182 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Don was soon saddled, and Robert mounted, when 
he turned and said : “ Mr. Grimes, am I to have the 
pleasure of your company as a guide ? I will pay you.” 

“No you ain’t,” said Moll, with anger in her black 
eyes. Then turning to the long man she commanded : 
“ Say no, you ole fool ; say no !” and the long man 
said “No,” when Robert raised his hat, wished them 
good morning, and Don galloped up the Clarksville 
pike. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


UNWELCOME VISITORS. 

About 10 o’clock in the evening, after a rapid ride 
of nearly sixty miles, over a rough, undulating coun- 
try, and along a poor road, Eobert drew rein at a 
plantation near Clydetown, Trigg County, close to the 
Tennessee line. 

The proprietor of the place was a tobacco planter, 
and a decided States-rights man, who had only to be 
acquainted with Eobert’ s business to aid him by every 
means in his power. He learned that a few hours’ 
ride next morning would take him to Fort Donelson ; 
so he saw his horse cared for, ate a hearty supper, and 
went to bed at once, telling the* landlord, after he had 
paid him, that he would start in the morning before 
that gentleman was up. 

Eobert had scarcely removed his boots after going 
to his room, when he was startled by the tramping of 
horses outside his window, accompanied by the fa- 
miliar jingle of Mexican spurs. He raised the sash 
cautiously, and could hear a jargon of voices close by, 
followed by the clanging of sabers on the gallery. 
The men had fastened their horses and entered the 
house, where they appeared to be well acquainted 
with the landlord, who met them at the door. 

“ Why, Lieutenant Bentley, I’m right glad to see 
you,” was the greeting of Mr. Webb, the landlord. 


184 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“What’s the news? Are the Yanks advancing yet, 
or ain’t they going to come?” 

“ I shouldn’t be surprised if they would be along 
right soon,” said the man addressed as Lieutenant 
Bentley. ‘ 4 But we’re just returning from a scout, Mr. 
Webb, and we’re all hungrier than coyotes in winter. 
Can’t you get us something to eat and keep us for the 
night ?” 

“How many of you are there?” prudently asked 
Mr. Webb. 

“Six, entirely,” said the lieutenant; “but you 
needn’t be particular; Ave’re used to it.” 

Mr. Webb appeared to understand what the lieuten- 
ant was used to, for he said : “ I’ve only one spare 
bed in the house, but,” said Mr. Webb, in a tone of 
recollection, “ thar’s a stranger that’s got a whole bed 
to himself in thar. He’s going to the fort with a mail, 
an’s a fine fellow, riding a slapping black horse. I 
reckon you can sleep with him, or take the spare bed 
and let Townsend sleep with the stranger.” 

“ We will attend to the horses and supper first, Mr. 
Webb. The sleeping will be easily arranged,” said 
the lieutenant, as the Texans went out to attend to 
their horses, and Mr. Webb, after ordering a servant 
to prepare something to eat for the six hungry men, 
rapped at Robert’s door. On its being opened, Mr. 
Webb apologized for disturbing his guest, and said : 

“ I don’t know if you would object, sir, but there 
are a lot of Texans here — good fellows — and you would 
save one from sleeping on the floor by making room 
for him in your bed.” 

Robert replied, “ Certainly, Mr. Webb, there is room 
here for three, if necessary ; but as I am a light sleepei 


A STRAGETICAL SNORE. 


18 ? 


send my room-mate here as soon as possible, so as to 
get rid of the noise.” 

Mr. Webb thanked Robert for his kindness, and re- 
minded him that as he started early in the morning 
he would have a cold snack prepared and left on the 
table for him, and the boy would attend to his horse. 

Robert had not yet undressed, but as soon as Mr. 
Webb left, he finished disrobing, and tying all his 
clothing in a bundle he placed the bundle on a chair at 
the foot of the bed beside his mail-bags. Then he ex- 
amined his pistols, and placing them under his pillow, 
he laid down, but not to sleep. He heard the Texans 
coming back from the stable, and shortly after the 
clatter of their knives and forks and the boisterous 
language of the rangers. 

As soon as they had finished supper, Bentley called 
out : 

“ Say, Mr. Webb, Fm ready to go to roost ; where 
am I to sleep?” 

Mr. Webb answered: “The gentleman with the 
mail has no objections to one ; he said two, but that 
would be an imposition. Then two can sleep on the 
floor and three in the spare bed.” 

“ Then Pll sleep with the stranger ; so here goes,” 
said a voice that sent a cold thrill through Robert. 

“No you don’t, Townsend,” said Bentley, pushing 
him back, “ that’s my nest for this night,” and he un- 
buckled his spurs and belt, and taking a candle en- 
tered Robert’s room. That individual was feigning 
sleep, with the clothes drawn half over his head and 
his face to the wall, while he imitated, capitally, that 
difficult and torturing sort of snore where the sleeper 
takes a long, whistling breath through his nose, ho 1 -' 1 * 
16 * 


186 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


it for an instant in his lungs, as if to consider its quale 
ity, and then, as if satisfied that it smells bad, slowly 
puffs it out through his mouth. 

It did not take Bentley long to undress, blow out 
the light, and leap into bed, muttering as he did, “That 
is one devil of a snorer !” 

Bobert started up as if suddenly awaked, and grasp- 
ing Bentley’s arms in his vice-like grip, said in deep, 
gruff tone : “ Hello, who is this ?” 

“ It ’s me, stranger — Bentley. By thunder, what a 
grip you have ! Webb said it was all right.” 

“Oh I I beg your pardon,” said Bobert. “I was 
asleep and dreaming of danger.” 

“Well, all I’ve got to say, friend,” said Bentley, 
laughing, “if you’re as powerful as that when you’re 
dreaming, I ’d pity the fellow you got your hands on 
in anger when awake.” 

“ One gets excited, you know,” said Bobert, in his 
assumed voice. Then continuing, he asked, as he 
turned from the wall : “Do you belong to the army, 
sir?” 

“Yes,” replied Bentley, “I belong to the Eighth 
Texas, Colonel Terry, Wharton’s battalion, and jest 
about the best men ever got into this infernal State.” 

“ I expect they are. I have heard them highly 
spoken of,” said Bobert. “What part of the State 
did you come from? I ask because I traveled in 
Texas some two years ago.” 

‘ ‘You do n’t say !” said Bentley, in surprise. “ Why, 
we come pretty much altogether from Brazoria and 
Fort Bend counties. Were you ever down in that 
region, stranger?” 

“ Yes. I had a delightful time hunting down there 


IN CLOSE QUARTERS. 


187 


with a young man whom I knew at school. His name 
was Warren — Robert Warren, of G-onzelletta. No 
doubt he is here with you, for I know him to be a 
positive man. who would not remain out of such a con- 
test as this.” 

Robert was drawing him on. 

“ I ’m right glad to know you ’ve been in our parts, 

Mr. (Robert supplied the word “Turner.”) 

“Yes, Mr. Turner, it ’s next to meeting an old friend. 
But your friend Warren turned out bad,” said the 
lieutenant. 

“ I am sorry to hear that,” said Robert, in a low tone. 

“Well, I was, too ; for Bob Warren had many good 
qualities. He was handsome, rich, and well educated. 
I might say, too, that he was one of the bravest men 
I ever met ; but the fact is he went against secession 
strong. The night of our voting on secession, he met 
three men on the road who had opposed him during 
the day, and with the aid of his big black boy Archy — 
you may remember him ; supposed you would ; he 
was a noticeable nigger — well, they killed one of the 
men dead and wounded the others, one of them so 
bad that he died ; the other one is now here in the 
house.” 

“ Indeed,’ ’ said Robert, interrupting him, in surprise. 
“ What is the man’s name who is here ?” 

“ Townsend,” answered the lieutenant. 

“ I do n’t know him,” said Robert. 

“ Wall, you miss nothing, for this fellow Townsend 

is a d d beat — a renegade Yankee. I have no 

faith in them. He did n’t join us till a month ago, 
and then he came on to avoid being drafted.” 

“ You astonish me, sir, about Warren,” said Robert. 


188 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


in genuine surprise, but with a disguised voice. “But 
how did he come to get away?” 

“Just boldness, d d boldness, Mr. Turner. 

There was a reward offered for him, and I tracked him 
to a settlement up the river, whar he was the day 
after the murder, a putting on airs. Why, he drank 
a toast plum agin us, and made the others join him, 
though they did n’t see the joke till I explained it.” 

“ I am still more amazed. I hope I am not keeping 
you awake, lieutenant.” 

“ Not at ail,” replied the lieutenant. “ I am glad 
to find a sensible man to talk to. Then I followed 
him to Marshall, and I saw him when he rode in with 
his boy and a fellow named Gaines. Thar was lota 
of Union men thar ; so I did n’t go for him in day- 
light, but waited for the night. Well, somehow he 
got suspicious, and left before dark. I got some fel- 
lers to follow him, but he dodged them, and got into 
some swamps near Caddo Lake. Shortly after a flood 
came and drowned him and the others. We found 
one of their dead horses and some of their clothes ; so 
I reckon they ’ve gone to that place whar all Yankees 
have got to go.” 

“ Wonders will never cease, lieutenant,” said Rob- 
ert, “ but your conclusion is correct. Before long we 
shall see a host of Yankees following in the tracks of 
this man Warren.” 

“ I reckon, stranger, you come from Kentucky, by 
your talk,” said the lieutenant. 

“No; I came originally from South Carolina,” re- 
plied Robert. 

“ The deuce you did ! I tell you she ’s a bully St < 

I wish Kentucky was like her.” 


A GARRULOUS BED-FELLOW. 


189 


“ How many men have you in the Eighth Texas, 
lieutenant, and where are they stationed ?” 

“ We have about sixteen hundred, and they are sta- 
tioned all along from Bowling Green to Columbus, 
scouting. I tell you the Yanks do n’t know how to 
scout. We nabbed some of their men not long ago, and 
it would have made your head swim to see them swing.” 

Bobert intimated that such a sight would be a rare 
treat, and then said, 

“ I am going to Fort Donelson with a mail in the 
morning. How long will it take me to get there if I 
start at four o’clock ?” 

“ You can get thar ready by eleven, but, if you want 
company, I ’m going down in the afternoon. I have 
to report to Wharton. Between me and you. I think 
I am to be sent inside the Yankee lines .’ 9 

“ A perilous but necessary duty,” said Bobert ; then 
continuing, “ I suppose we have a good force at Fort 
Donelson, in case of an attack?” 

“ I thought we had nigh on to fifty thousand, but I 
heard Pillow’s chief of staff say to-day at Dover that 
we had only twenty-four thousand, including Forrest’s 
cavalry.” 

“ I am sorry to hear that,” said Bobert. “Have 
you any idea of what they are going to do ?’ ’ 

“Well, the supposition is now that the Yankees 
will attack Bowling Green. Then we ’ll join Albert 
Sydney Johnston, and move down the Cumberland, 
slap into the Yankee country. That ’s Wharton’s 
idea, and he got it from good authority.” 

Bobert turned towards the lieutenant and laid his 
hand affectionately on his shoulder as he said, 

“Now what would be the shortest route for me to 


19 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


take to the fort? I do n’t want to be troubled with 
pickets, and guards, and the like, for I am in a hurry. 
I want to get back to Lexington in a week, and will 
have enough trouble with the Yankees, without being 
bothered by my own friends.” 

“See here, Mr. Turner, I ’ve got a pass in my pocket 
allowing me to go through the lines at any time. You 
take it ; I can make out I ’ve lost it, and get another 
when I want it.” 

“No, my good friend.” said Robert, feelingly, “I 
will not put you to any trouble. Hurried as I am, I 
would not bother a gallant soldier.” 

This decided the lieutenant, who leaped out of bed 
and fumbled with his pants till he found the open 
sesame paper, which he handed to Robert, and Rob- 
ert got up and put it in his pocket, uttering profuse 
thanks as he did so. 

The lieutenant told him not to mention it, and said : 
“ Mr. Turner, you are a good fellow. Hanged if your 
voice do n’t sound at times as if I ’d known you all my 
life, and I keep trying where to put you, but as I never 
saw you before to-night, of course it’s nonsense. 
Haven’t you met fellows like that yourself?” 

“ Oh, very often,” said Robert, as he thought how 
much Bentley had seen of him before, and how little 
to-night. 

Both men remained quiet, as if desiring to go to 
sleep, but Robert’s mind reverted to Gonzelletta. 
Bentley had left there more recently than himself. 
He might learn something about his family. 

“Excuse me, lieutenant,” he said, “but I cannot 
get that fellow Warren out of my head. I remember 
his father and sister. His mother, too, was a fine old 


ALMOST UNDISGUISED. 


191 


lady ; and, if I remember rightly, he was attached to 
a sweet girl named Miss Boardman.” 

“Your memory is good, Mr. Turner; but it would 
be a long story to tell you all. The old man shielded 
his son, and he was sent to jail.” Bentley stopped sud- 
denly, for Robert called out, “ Gracious heaven !” and 
groaned as if in agony. 

“ What’s wrong, Mr. Turner ? What’s wrong?” said 
Bentley in terror, leaping out of bed. Robert sat up 
and clutching his fingers till the nails entered the 
flesh, he conquered his feelings, and said : “Nothing, 
lieutenant ; but sometimes I am taken with a pain in 
the heart, and it comes sudden, like the blow of a 
dagger, and then is gone. I’ve just had a stroke, but 
it’s past. Lie down, lieutenant, I will let you sleep, 
and I will fe*el better for being quiet. My long ride 
and anxiety have upset me. Lie down, lieutenant.” 

The lieutenant did lie down, first, however, offering 
to bring “ Mr. Turner” a drink, or send for a doctor. 

A few remarks about Robert’s complaint, and words 
of genuine sympathy from the lieutenant, and they 
said “ G ood night,” the one to sleep, the other to think 
of the grey-haired prisoner on the Brazos, and to pic- 
ture to himself the terrible sequel of the story Bentley 
had just 4 begun. But he only forgot himself for the 
moment ; he felt that all his strength and coolness 
and courage were now required for his desperate un- 
dertaking, and it would be foolish to weaken himself 
by other thoughts. Still through the long hours, as 
he lay beside the man who once had sought his life, 
and whom a word would awake to vengeance, his mind 
turned again and again to the desolate home and the 
grey-haired man in prison, and the fatal knowledge in 
the heart of his sleeping companion. 


CHAPTER XX. 


AGAIN ON TIIF ROAD. 

While the clock was striking four, Robert hurriedly 
rose, without waking his bed-fellow, and dressed. 
Going to the room where he had eaten supper the 
night before, he found the “snack” which Mr. Webb 
had promised awaiting him. The boy was up and 
announced his horse as just saddled. 

It was a dark, cold morning, and Robert’s spirits 
were anything but light as he turned Don’s head 
southward. By daylight he had crossed the State line 
and entered Stewart County, Tennessee, and before 
eleven o’clock he had reached Dora, four miles south 
of Fort Donelson, and on the Cumberland River. He 
put up at a little out-of-the-way tavern, and saw that 
his horse was put in a stall where he would not attract 
attention, knowing that the Texans remember a horse 
better than they do a man. He found the tavern full of 
soldiers, swaggering and swearing in a manner pecu- 
liar to the uneducated men of the Mississippi Valley. 
Satisfying himself that there were no Rangers in the 
bar-room, he walked in, and stepping to the counter 
asked for “something to drink.” Looking around, 
he noticed a young fellow with o frank, manly face, 
and nodding, Robert invited him to join him, which 
the young man very willingly did, first discharging a 
huge quid of tobacco from his mouth. Robert was 


“CHUCK FULL OF CANNON. 


m 


fortunate enough to secure a room to himself, and to 
this he invited his loquacious acquaintance, ordering 
more liquor to be sent to his room, a thing which 
delighted the landlord and the Mississippian, for such 
the young man proved to be. 

“Where mout yeh be going?” asked the young 
man, after they had entered the room. 

Robert assumed the vernacular peculiar to the Mis- 
sissippians, and replied : 

“ Jes’ as soon as I kin git a little rest I ’m agoin’ 
up ter the fort. I ’ve got a mail for ole Buck an’ the 
boys from Kaintuck. I reckon they ’ll all be kinder 
glad to har from home. What ’s your regiment, 
friend ? ” 

“I belong to the Second Mississippi, under Forrest. 
Mos’ of our men are up at Donelson,” said the young man . 

‘ ‘ I reckon yeh know right smart of people up thar. 
Got millions of men, I reckon, in the fort?” said 
Robert, filling a glass with whisky and handing it to 
the young man, who took it, and this time econom- 
ically held his quid in his hand, and restored it to his 
mouth after he had drank. 

“Wall, we hav’nt got so many men, friend,” said 
the young man, drawing his coat sleeve across his 
lips, “but I think we’ve got ’nuff to clean out every 
d — d Yankee in the land.” 

This was certainly modest in the opinion of Robert, 
and he ventured to say : 

“ I know we can lick the Yankees, if we ’ve only 
got lots of cannon. Cannon is the thing, after all !” 

“ Yer head ’s level thar, friend,” said the young 
man, looking very wise, “ an’ I can tell yeh Fort 
Donelson ’s chuck full of cannon.” 

17 


194 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Robert looked up in wonder, and the young man 
repeated, “ Yes, friend, chuck full of cannon. Now 
I know all about that, kase I counted 'em only Sun- 
day last.” 

He then went on to name the batteries and enume- 
rate the number of guns in each, and the size. This 
information was by no means reliable, and could only 
be of use in corroborating other facts which Robert 
hoped to obtain. He plied the Mississippian with glass 
after glass, till, overcome, he fell upon the floor, and, 
hiccupping the praises of his entertainer, he fell asleep. 

Robert threw him on the bed and searched his 
clothing, but found on him nothing that would add to 
his information. He determined not to go up to the 
fort till after dark, so pulling off his boots, he lay 
down beside the drunken Mississippian, and, despite 
dinner-gongs, bugs, and drunken broils, he slept till 
after sundown. He was aroused by the racket made 
by the Mississippian in hi js search for the bottle, 
which he had purposely hidden before lying down. 

He rose much refreshed, and gave the soldier the 
bottle, telling him to drink what was left. After a 
by no means hearty supper, he ordered his horse, 
and. learning the direction, he started for Fort Don- 
elson. 

With his hat slouched and his great-coat collar 
turned up, he rode at a sharp trot for about three 
miles, when he was brought suddenly to a stand by 
the peremptory “Halt! who goes there?" of an 
armed guard. 

Robert pulled in his horse, and, in a gruff voice, 
replied “ A friend, with a pass.” 

Without being ordered to dismount, the guard took 


“HALT!”— THE FORT REACHED. 


105 


his pass, and, with one hand on Don’s bridle, he 
called the corporal of the guard. That individual 
soon came with a lantern, and, glancing at the pass, 
he hurriedly raised his head and lantern, and in a 
hearty voice said : 

“ Hello, Bentley, glad to see you, old boy !” 

The light soon revealed his mistake, and in an ex- 
cited tone he said, 

“ You a prisoner! Guards, seize that man !” 

Robert explained, but it was of no avail, and just 
as he was about to start for the fort, a prisoner, he 
heard the same command of “ Halt !” and the voice 
of Bentley answered the challenge. The corporal 
recognized him, and went up to ask an explanation, 
while Robert pulled lower his hat and higher his col- 
lar, for the night, to him, was bitterly cold. 

Bentley’s account agreed with Robert’s, when the 
corporal apologized, and handed his late prisoner a 
small flask, begging that he would drink to their bet- 
ter acquaintance. Robert made a show of drinking, 
and thanked the corporal, while he praised his sol- 
dierly vigilance. 

“ Yes, friend,” said the corporal, “ I know my duty, 
and we must be careful. It would raise hell with us 
if the Yanks could get a good spy to report every- 
thing in Fort Donelson. Between us, I do n’t like 
the looks of things at Paducah, if reports be true.” 

It was cold and dark as the two Texans rode along 
laughing over the difficulty Robert had just escaped. 
How different were their thoughts, their motives, 
their duties. They passed several other guards with- 
out trouble, and entered the fort by a road along the 
river front. After riding about four hundred yards 


J96 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Bentley pointed out General Buckner’s headquarters 
and shaking hands with Bobert, he promised to call 
on him in the morning, and rode off in another 
direction. 

Before General Buckner’s house there was a guard, 
to whom Bobert expressed his desire to see the general. 
The guard called an orderly, and the orderly took in 
Bobert’s letter. Beappearing in a few minutes, he said, 

“ The general wishes to see the courier.” 

Leaving the orderly to hold his horse, Bobert en- 
tered, and found the general seated before a table 
covered with maps and papers. The general was a 
florid, compactly-built man, with a soldierly face and 
carriage. Bobert had assumed the name of Boberts, 
and as such was introduced to a heavy-set man with 
a smooth face and a large soap-lock of black hair 
plastered down on his large, protruding forehead. 
This was Boger Hanson, of Kentucky, a man about 
fifty years of age, and exceedingly free and cordial in 
his manner. Bobert noticed, as Colonel Hanson ad- 
vanced to take his hand, that he walked lame, the 
effect of a duel before the war. The colonel was 
very inquisitive, but Bobert answered or evaded his 
questions with skill. He was from Campbell County ; 
had lived in Covington ; had friends in Lexington ; 
was there and was introduced to Colonel Hanson at a 
large States-rights meeting where Colonel Hanson 
spoke after his return from the east. He remembered 
that Colonel ^Hanson went east a Union man but came 
back in favor of secession. He quoted some of Colonel 
Hanson’s speech, approved his course, and conse- 
quently won the heart of Hanson and the respect of 
the listening Buckner. 


AT BUCKNER’S HEADQUARTERS. 


197 


While Robert and Colonel Hanson were conversing, 
the general w T as sorting his own letters, and he finished 
reading one of some length about the time the con- 
versation appeared to lag. 

“ I am very glad to get these letters at this time, 
Mr. Roberts,” said the general ; “ they contain much 
valuable and to me surprising information.” 

He continued to read, and Robert, with a child-like 
innocence of military etiquette, questioned the kind- 
hearted Hanson about the troops, the strength of the 
fort, and other facts, all of which he noted and con- 
signed to his powerful memory. 

After remaining at General Buckner’s quarters for 
about an hour, during which time the general was busy 
with his letters, Colonel Hanson thoughtfully sug- 
gested that Mr. Roberts and his horse might be tired 
and hungry, and as Mr. Roberts did not deny the state- 
ment, the general apologized, and calling his orderly 
directed him to see that Mr. Roberts was cared for, 
and also to put Mr. Roberts’s horse in his own stable. 

As Robert was about leaving he turned, and, in a 
respectful tone, said : 

“ General, the circle expects my return in one week 
from to-day. I will need to start just as soon as pos- 
sible.” 

‘ 4 1 will see that the mail is distributed at once, and 
any letters to return ready by to-morrow r night,” said 
the general as Robert walked out to partake of his 
hospitality. He was conveyed to a log house contain- 
ing several rooms, one of them belonging to the or- 
derly, which that individual willingly turned over to 
Robert, for his heart had been made glad by a letter 
from home. 


17 * 


V 


IDS WARREN OF TEXAS. 

Robert desired no supper, and from choice went at 
once to bed, but he did not sleep. He was preparing 
his plans for the morrow. Every sound was listened 
to, every word noted. During the long night he lay 
on his cot thinking of his dangerous position, or grad- 
ual! v letting memory and imagination run in ofher 
channels, till he was back at Gonzelletta. Once happy 
Gonzelletta ! where as a boy he had chased the red 
deer on the flowery prairies and swam the San Bernard 
uncaring for the alligators or gar-fish. Then trouble 
was a myth, and life full of healthy joys. But 
times had sadly changed. What were they doing at 
Gonzelletta now? Had they released his father — 
his generous, pure-hearted father? He wondered 
if they had heard the story Bentley related about 
the lakes. Did they think him dead? Did Amy 
weep at the sad news of his death? But he would 
rejoice their hearts yet. He would one day return 
with the flag and the untorn star, and, as he thought 
of that, be clasped his hand to his breast and satisfied 
himself that the tatters of the Brazoria flag were 
there. His poor mother, he would make her yet 
look on the troubles of the past as a black dream, 
making real life brighter for its contrast, and the 
future lit w ith happy hope. His father should no 
more have the cares of the place. He was getting 
old and weak. His last days must be without annoy- 
ance and labor. He would smoke with him on the 
gallery in days to come, with Amy and the rest around 
them ; and he would relate to the old man the stories 
of battles and dangers through which he had gone 
since that fearful night in February, ’ 61 . Dear 
Mary ! He would lead her to forget the false love. 


PLAYING SICI 


199 


Some comrade, tried and true, would yet know her 
and love her. Through all his thoughts Amy ran 
like the angel of hope, and he pictured her the mis- 
tress of his future prairie home. Oh ! the happy, 
happy future, seen through the eyes of hope, colored 
with the tints of imagination, who can count the 
wealth it contains, or wreath laurels more bright 
than those it holds ? No clouds shadow it. No rough- 
ness rises on its smooth expanse. 

So passed the black hours of the long night in 
waking dreams. No sound broke the stillness, save 
when the guards shouted at their posts “ All ’s well.” 
^Vould that the words ^vere true the world over ; but 
ere long the thunders of battle will break the still- 
ness of that fort, and voices that lustily call “ All *s 
well ” will weaken and be heard in the rattle of death. 

Before morning Robert had matured his plans. He 
would not appear outside during the day, he must be 
sick. He remembered Archy’s receipt the night 
before the battle of Mill Springs. So taking from 
his pocket some tobacco, he cut off a piece about as 
large as a beech-nut, and deliberately swallowed it. 
Early in the morning an orderly from General Buck- 
ner brought him a note, which proved to be an invita- 
tion to breakfast, but Robert could not rise, he was 
truly and thoroughly sick. A doctor was called in at 
once, who pronounced Robert to be suffering from 
prostration and nausea, caused by somQ long and con- 
strained excitement. The doctor knew r that Robert 
was a courier before giving the latter part of his opin- 
ion. Robert took some medicine, and the doctor left 
him, instructing the orderly to furnish a nurse and to 
see that the patient was kept quiet. 


200 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


General Buckner called to see Robert, and regretted 
his illness, while he ordered the attendant to carry 
out the doctor’s directions. Robert assured him he 
would be well very soon, and attributed the attack to 
his long journey and the excitement he had been 
laboring under. He told the general that he would 
soon be all right, and asked him to prepare the return 
mail as soon as possible, for he would be ready to 
mount when ready to leave his bed. 

In the afternoon the doctor, who was attached to 
Buckner’s staff, called again, and seeing that he was 
disposed to talk, Robert, who felt really lonely, begged 
him to remain with him, whereupon the kind-hearted 
physician sat down, remarking as he did : 

“ You will be all right in the morning, Mr. Roberts, 
if you remain quiet.” 

“ Yes, doctor, but I hope to leave early in the morn- 
ing, and I am very much disappointed that I cannot 
see the fort. I think my inquisitive friends at home 
will be sadly disappointed at my ignorance of this 
important place, particularly as I have not an idea of 
what a genuine fort is like.” 

The doctor laughed as Robert ceased speaking, 
remarking at the same time : 

“ Mr. Roberts, you lose nothing by being in bed, 
for you could gain but a faint idea of this place in a 
hasty survey.” Here the doctor was interrupted by 
the attendant, who said Mr. Bently wished to see Mr. 
Roberts, but the doctor told him it was impossible, 
as Mr. Roberts was too sick to talk. After the nurse 
had gone out, Robert rose on one elbow, and said : 

“ Doctor, I want to know just what a fort is like. 
Say Donelson — the trenches, and all that.” 


CONTRABAND INFORMATION. 


201 


The doctor laughed at the earnestness and sim- 
plicity of his patient, and tearing a sheet of paper 
from his prescription-book, he sketched what proved 
to be a very correct outline of the fort, with its 
guarded approaches. He gave an idea of the scale, 
the positions of different troops, the magazines and 
batteries, the weight of the guns at different points, 
the strong places and the weak, according to the 
opinions of the engineers, and other facts volunteered 
by liim or skillfully drawn out by the patient. Had the 
doctor scanned Robert’s face closely, as he spoke, he 
would have noticed an expression of intense earnest- 
ness, for he was now noting every line and fact for 
future use. 

Robert expressed himself as thankful for the doc- 
tor’s information, and, looking over the plan carefully, 
he tore it up, remarking, 

“It would not do for the Yankees to capture me, 
even with so rude a sketch of the fort as this.” 

The doctor smiled, and hoped Mr. Roberts would 
“never get into the hands of the Yankees.” 

A little before dark, Robert, though still quite sick, 
got up and dressed. In answer to a note of inquiry 
from General Buckner, he repaired to the general’s 
headquarters, where he found General Pillow, and 
underwent another cross-fire of questions, all of which 
were answered with a respect that vouched for the 
truth of the replies. General Buckner told him the 
mail would be ready by ten o’clock that night, and 
Robert informed him that by that time he would be 
well enough to leave the fort. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


FORT DONELSON. 

Robert had everything in readiness to start before 
midnight, but he waited till about three o’clock in 
the morning, when he rode out of the fort, and 
crossed the river at Dover. His horse was rested, 
and he felt himself that all immediate danger was 
passed as he turned south on the Clarksville pike, re- 
solving not to rest till inside the Union lines. Inside 
of sixteen hours he had crossed to the Tennessee 
River, up which, he learned from a rebel scout, Gen- 
eral Grant was ascending, with a large force, in steam- 
boats. He came up with the Union advance fifty 
miles above Fort Henry, turned over his mail, and 
made a careful report of his valuable information, 
before seeking the rest of which he stood so much in 
need. 

Few positions held by the rebels were stronger natu- 
rally than Fort Donelson. Situated in a bend of the 
Cumberland, and on an elevation that gave a com- 
plete command of the surrounding country for miles, 
it presented an impassable obstacle to the ascent of 
steamboats on the river, and its reduction by land 
was thought by the southern engineers to be impossi- 
ble. The country around the fort was thickly wooded, 
and presented no elevations which the batteries of an 
attacking force could avail themselves of to advan- 


NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE. 


205 


lage. The line of defenses was in the form of a semi- 
circle, the left resting on the river at Dover, and the 
right on the river six miles above. Fort Donelson 
proper crowned a ridge about the center of this cir- 
cle, three hundred yards back from the river. The 
space between the fort and river was occupied by for- 
midable water batteries, bearing on the approaches 
in that direction. Along the outward line of defenses 
were seven redoubts supplied with field artillery, and 
the intervening spaces were obstructed by abattis 
and trenches. Two creeks flowing eastward and par- 
allel, one six hundred yards above the main fort, and 
the other half that distance below, added by their 
steep clay banks and swollen beds to the strength of 
the rebel position. Twenty thousand well-armed men, 
confident of their ability to defeat, on an open field, 
four times their number of the Yankees, occupied 
Fort Donelson, with its impregnable earthworks, and 
the best officers of the South commanded them. Of 
course they were confident, and laughed when they 
heard that Grant was advancing from Fort Henry and 
crossing the river seven miles north of Fort Donelson. 

The afternoon of the 12th saw the head of the 
Union column across the Cumberland, and the rebel 
pickets falling back on the fort. Throughout the af- 
ternoon the blue lines felt their way west and south 
but, beyond an occasional shot from the pickets, all 
was quiet. 

On the 13th, McClernand had pushed south 
toward Dover, feeling of and skirmishing with the 
enemy, but there was no severe fighting. 

The night of the 13th came with a soft, balmy 
air, and a bright, full moon, shining down from 


204 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


a cloudless sky, and reflected on the watchful senti- 
nels within and the circling lines without the fort. 
McClernand’s men had three days cooked rations in 
their haversacks, and wondered why the attack did 
not begin. Early in the evening a cheer came swelling 
from the extreme Union left. The re-enforcements With 
General Smith and Foote’s gunboats were in sight. 
The long blue lines filed out, the moon flashed on 
their polished arms, and the bands filled the air 
with patriotic notes. 

That night saw a grand host resting on its arms, in 
position for the morning’s conflict. McOlernand, 
who had captured Fort Henry, and whose troops had 
so far done nearly all the fighting at Donelson, held 
the post Of honor and greatest danger, on the right. 
Next to him, and in the center of the Union line, 
General Wallace’s division was firmly posted, and ex- 
tending north to the river were the brigades of Gen- 
eral C. F. Smith, and on the river Foote’s gunboats 
were moored for the morning’s contest. The early 
night passed away, and with it the clear sky, the 
bright moon, and the warm, balmy air. 

The morning of the 14th came with a cold, 
biting wind, accompanied by rain and sleet, but the 
storm of the elements was unnoticed amid the thun- 
ders of battle. F oote opened at day-break, and the 
tide of battle swept along the extended circle to 
McClernand. For three hours there was one continued 
roar from gunboat and battery, and the rattling vol- 
umes of musketry rose and fell in waves of sound 
along the extended line. Gradually the firing ceased 
on the Union left. The gunboats were disabled and 
sent helpless down the river. 


THE SECOND DAY’S CONFLICT. 


205 


Throughout the 1 4th the enemy, who had dreaded 
the gunboats more than the land forces, were made 
confident by the defeat of Foote, and came out- 
side their works with Indian-like yells, and till late 
in the afternoon the contending forces struggled with 
varying success. But before dark McClemand had 
forced the enemy back, and rested his extreme right 
on the river below Dover, thus shutting off all retreat 
to the south. The storm of the previous night 
continued through the day, and the night of the 
14th came to the fireless, weary army of Grant# 
with its cutting sleet and biting winds. The clothing 
of the men was frozen stiff, and the wounded suffered 
fearfully from the cold ; yet there was no complaining. 
The army came for victory, and through the terrible 
night they waited anxiously for daylight, to renew the 
attack. Through the drifting snow and sleet the 
grey day dawned on the 15th, and again McCler- 
nand’s gallant division received the first blow in the 
day’s battle. The enemy saw they were being cut 
off, and made a desperate effort to force the First 
Division from the road. Seven thousand infantry 
were thrown forward under cover of their artillery. 
W. H. L. Wallace’s and Colonel Oglesby’s brigades 
received the first blow, and fell back slowly, resisting 
the fearful onset. In the meantime the batteries of 
Dresser, Taylor, and Schwartz galloped into position, 
and opening at short range they checked the rebel 
column, which swung around and struck Colonel 
Hayne’s brigade. For three hours a terrible hand- 
to-hand fight with musketry at short range stubbornly 
raged along the front of the First Division. Logan 
and Smith, Oglesby and Dickey, with their Illinoisans, 
18 


206 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


fought till their ammunition was gone. * Ransom and 
Dickey, though losing fearfully in men, held their 
ground. The enemy sent Forrest to charge the 
Eleventh Illinois, but his success was momentary. It 
seemed by eleven o’clock a. m. that MeClemand must 
give way, but re-enforcements came from General Lew 
Wallace in the center, and Ross, of the Nineteenth 
Illinois, brought in two fresh regiments. The broken 
line was re-formed. The order to charge sounded along 
the front, and before the impetuous sweep of Union 
valor the rebels fled, their dead and wounded covering 
the line of their retreat. Like a bull-dog McCler- 
nand held the river bank, and the first line of rebel 
defenses before twelve o’clock was occupied by Illi- 
nois, Indiana, and Kentucky troops. This repulse 
did not dismay the reckless enemy. They were now 
fighting for an avenue of escape, and they swept to 
the left against the brigade of Colonel Thayer of the 
First Nebraska. General Grant, who had been with 
the gunboats and Smith’s division, reached the center 
of the field at the moment the storm of battle centered 
on Lew Wallace’s brigades. But no man flinched. 
Thayer received the onset, and with his men from the 
Northwest and Illinois checked the rebels in his front, 
and, though exposed to a perfect torrent of fire, no 
colors yielded ground. ITurled back from the Union 
center, the enemy spent their strength in a wild and 
useless waste of ammunition. By three o’clock Gen- 
eral Grant ordered an attack along the line, opening 
with Smith’s division on the left. The order was 
answered with loud cheers, and Smith’s massed col- 
umns charged over the rifle-pits, across the abattis, 
and into the enemy’s ranks, where they planted and 


UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER. 


207 


held the Union colors. The news of this success 
reached Wallace in the center and McClemand on 
the right, and, though wearied by cold and hardship, 
their divisions received the order to charge with elec- 
trifying cheers, and closed in a death-struggle with 
the enemy. Night came, still bitterly cold, but the 
Union troops did not seem to heed it. They were 
confident of the morning’s victory, and in that strong 
hope every other feeling was absorbed. 

The morning did dawn, but no firing came from the 
enemy’s front. The Union troops strained their eyes 
to the central fort, where yesterday the 44 bars and 
stars” waved in arrogant defiance, and there they 
saw floating the white flag of unconditional surrender. 
Two hours passed and the white flag came down, 
the Stars and Stripes went up to the mast-head, and 
forty thousand Union troops marched into the scene 
of their daring and victory. 

During the battle, at his own request Robert War- 
ren was assigned to a position as volunteer aid on the 
staif of General Smith, and he had a fine opportunity 
to witness this terrible battle. The feeling of sicken- 
ing fear that unmanned him for a time at Somerset 
came in a milder form, but soon disappeared. He 
participated in the charge of Smith’s division, and 
as they closed on the enemy he could see the rebel 
Colonel Hanson limping along the line and encour- 
aging his Kentuckians by a reckless exposure of his 
own person. He did not enter the fort, for prudent 
reasons, till after the. thirteen thousand prisoners had 
been removed or paroled, and then he tasted of a joy 
that paid him for all the danger. 

It may be well to close this sketch of the fight at 
Donelson with a glance at the secret service. 






Ix oc i rsooje nurnu: one vrar one ~eatfbr 

pjuonres j» liKdf one snp^sanem of the inree 
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xitf ut eiL_ou£ nasi vioo r.^ammr saner*. m one 
: _ . : - _ - _ . ; mu 

one tth^ts. it VmrTr £ Tirarr is uampji jx oth- 

ttsott lies is TmS_ 

Em age is nnicner la-snao a: one eer^ire vioium: 

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s e s rtoi o x* x penerm : ommandmi:. 3k misc smo^-one 
sannroi.. Eni if pnesiiiie. one finm nosmai: hill hl- 
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rnimrj svw*i rfre a irensnu .use o: one TzmnnmpnT 
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oiir i ~r »er ii-ere. l online o nsre. e nff or l zremL of hh 
^ti u. imp to id luolo one noienoior of one mri jo r- 
rine". mi ' be of Tim antimiiir it l nnooie t 
if U- obese fans were narrex xd no eo^oo^ am 1 ’ 
mere are oiimir- inu*±e u> iianuee. me I'ljaiiUL nf 
i i-amrnnoiiu mr j one mnmgs.. one doioisbe one 
ssaxe of one mao-, and oonsr ollhito ennuio essenoia*. 
▼tluo one : *Tmnuiininx officer thipt airv xl be sui- 
ksiil. Tne bes: wzj xt* develop one sommzoi- of ill 
^nem T is xe ooiaao mir - bin ink is one b»gr Tesan if 
im.'nmO 'i k one nbieco. for i * mvroTf inn it- hub: 
as mad as. and someoimss Tiiurrr mnre omm one 
knfVjefce kvnroL. 

^ r u* kngone von onsre were owe sonroe^ of nn amzxziuL 


THZ UVSEJXLBLE COSTEABAVD. V* 

vhlcli our generals availed themselves of, and which 
m ay be called the regular and the irregular. Under 
the head of the irregular, and in the reverse order 
*:f importance, may be named the following : First, 
the refugees, who. from patriotic or selfish motives, 
were continual!/ pouring into our lines from the di- 
rection of the enemy. They were generally a very 
ignorant class of people, with false ideas of distance 
and exaggerated notions of numbers. If a refugee said 
that he - saw with his own eyes an army of fifty thou- 
sand men 19 at a certain place and marching in a cer- 
tain direction, it might generally be credited that the 
enemy was at that point, and marching in the direc- 
tion named, but the numbers could never be relied on. 
Another source of information was the deserters, who 
were always escaping to our lines — sometimes south- 
ern Union men, sometimes northern men, who, resid- 
ing South when th^ war broke out, were impressed into 
the rebel service: mid then again the criminals and 
an trine ip led dregs of the southern army, escaping 
hem the guard-hotue and justice. The information 
"he/ gave had to ' e weighed and sifted with great 
caution, and accent d in proportion to the intelligence 
ar the mfwBwat the probable cause for desertion. 
Indeed, this was ote of the safest ways to get a spy 
cat > the opposing lines, though deserters were guarded 
a* closely as prisoners. Valuable knowledge of the 
enemy : add be gained b/ comparing the examinations 
of a number of deserters, but as a rule no men knew 
Le^s about the armies on either side than the great 
bod/ of the privates. This was particularly true of 
the rebels. They knew the strength of their own 
companies or regiments, and the brigade, division, and 


210 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


corps to which they belonged, but beyond that, nothing. 

No person was the object of so much ridicule dur- 
ing the war as “ the reliable contraband,” and yet 
some of these people furnished the most valuable in- 
formation to the Union generals. As a rule only, the 
most intelligent escaped into the Federal lines, and 
they, in many cases, were waiters in gentlemens’ fam- 
ilies or officers’ servants. The negro may not be able 
to perceive ideas or analyze motives as quickly as a 
white man, but he is certainly his superior in the mem- 
ory of words and conversations. So far, then, as the 
black man repeated what he heard — and one ac- 
quainted with those people could easily detect any 
interpolations — his statements could be credited, and 
the fact that he heard a certain person say so might 
be relied on. In speaking about what he saw himself 
there was the same tendency to exaggeration in the 
negro as in the white refugee. 

Another source of information, and of the most 
valuable kind, was that obtained from captured mails 
or intercepted dispatches. The supply of informa- 
tion from the sources named was often valuable, but 
always uncertain, and when most needed, the ene- 
my’s lines were most strictly guarded, so that it was 
difficut to pass them. Each army, however, was made 
independent of these sources of supplying informa- 
tion by its own organized secret service corps — known 
in the army but little, outside of the army not at all. 
So when a citizen read of a victory won, he never for 
a moment thought of the cool daring of some fearless 
scout who carried from the enemy’s lines the secret of 
his weakness, and gave half the victory before a gun 
was fired. 


THE SCOUT AND THE SPY. 


211 


There is a great difference between the spy and the 
scout as such. The scout is always a sold'er, detailed 
by virtue of his knowledge of the country or peculiar 
Witness for his position. He is usually mounted and 
always armed. He operates alone or with his com- 
panions on the front, flanks, and often the rear of the 
enemy, picking up stragglers, capturing mails, inter- 
cepting dispatches, burning bridges, and frequently 
harassing the enemy by sudden onsets in considerable 
numbers. To accomplish a dangerous enterprise the 
scouts were often led to dress in the most ambiguous 
uniforms, frequently in that of the enemy, though any 
dress, not a Federal uniform, could be made to pass 
for that of a rebel soldier. The Union scouts were 
as well acquainted with the regiments and brigades of 
the enemy as they were with those of their own peo- 
ple, and they often carried passes signed by rebel offi- 
cers of rank. In detailing men for this hazardous 
business, courage and coolness were not the only requi- 
sites ; a knowledge of the country, of the people, of 
the negro character, and the reproachful terms used 
against the Union troops, was necessary. The best 
scouts on the Union side were southern men, or men 
who had resided long enough in the South to under- 
stand the people. To the eminently successful scout 
another great requisite was education, so that he might 
be able to note and classify every fact of importance. 

The spy was a different individual as a rule. He 
was not a soldier, for no officer could order a man to 
do work that he could not protect him in if captured. 
Many were spies from the noblest motives, but the 
majority were prompted by that love of reward which 
leads men to face death in a thousand forms in the 


212 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


hope of gain. He assumed the garb and face of a 
friend. He blended with his foes, and sometimes oc- 
cupied some civil position in connection with the army. 
While the Union army had a fine system of this kind, 
it was very imperfect compared with the efficiency of 
the rebel secret service. The spies of the South were 
posted from the Gulf to the White House. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


THE HOME AT GONZELLETTA. 

It was a beautiful evening in the latter part of June, 
1861, and Mrs. Boardman and her daughter were 
seated on the gallery, as when our story begins. They 
had been talking about the death of Mr. Warren and 
the sad funeral which they had that day attended. 
They wondered where Bobert was, but concluded he 
had reached Kentucky, as the efforts to capture him, 
of which they had heard, proved fruitless. Their con- 
versation was disturbed by the arrival of Henderson 
Townsend, whose coarse, cunning face was not made 
more attractive by the evident good humor which he 
felt. Both rose and bowed coldly as he ascended the 
steps, but he took no notice of their manner. Seating 
himself, he pulled a newspaper from his pocket, and, 
glancing at a paragraph which was made conspicuous 
by a pencil mark, he said, as his greasy face opened 
in the form of laugh without a sound, 

“I have some news here — news about Robert War- 
ren ! Would yell like to hear it?” Looking at Amy, 
he continued, 44 Coz, if yeh would, sit down an I ’ll let 
yell read it.” 

“Amy’s face grew deathly pale, and she felt giddy 
for an instant, but, recovering herself, she sat down 
beside her mother. 


214 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Mrs. Boardman took her daughter’s cold hand in 
hers and said, 

“ Mr, Townsend, I am interested, with my daugh- 
ter, in Mr. Warren, and should be pleased to hear 
any good news you have to bring us.” 

“ Good news !” chuckled Townsend ; “ Wall, I reckon 
it ’s jest ’bout the best news I ’ve heard for many a 
day. Miss Amy, yeh knows I ’ve alius been your 
friend ?” 

Townsend tried to look seriously sentimental, but 
succeeded in looking stupid and brutal, as he uttered 
his assertion in the tone of a question. 

“ Please let that go, and tell us what you know 
about Mr. Warren,” said Amy, earnestly. 

“Wall, now, Miss Amy, Bob Warren was n’t a bad 
sort of a feller. Some things I liked ’bout him, even 
if he did try ter kill me. I liked him. Miss Amy, on 
your account, particularly since yeh ordered me out 
of this house. I ain’t been in since, yeh know.” 

“ For mercy’s sake, Mr. Townsend, tell md what 
you know. Please let me have that paper,” and Amy 
reached out her hand with an imploring look. 

Townsend held the paper in his freckled hand, and, 
although too far off for Amy to reach it, he suddenly 
pulled it back, and, folding it up, put it in his pocket. 

“ Miss Amy, I ’ll let you see it bimeby, but yeh 
knows I ’m yehr friend, and do n’t want ter give yeh 
pain. I ’ 11 let yeh see it, but yeh ’ve got ter answer 
a question first ; will yeh?” 

“Oh, yes, Mr. Townsend,” said Amy, earnestly; 
“ only be quick, please be quick J” 

“Yes, yehr mighty oneasy, Miss Amy, I see. But 
supposin’ now Robert Warren should n’t never come 


THE BRUTE TOWNSEND. 


215 


back, supposin’ he was drowned and I could prove it, 
and wuz to go on ter Cadder Lake, and bring his 
body home, an’ bury him ’long side the ole man, 
would yell like me any the better fox it ?” 

Townsend had been speaking with his eyes fixed 
on the lash of his whip, which he was twisting like a 
snake on the floor. He waited for an answer for some 
seconds, and looking up he saw Amy’s face pale as 
death, her eyes closed, and her head resting on her 
mother’s breast, while Mrs. Boardman, speechless 
with alarm, was motioning to a servant who stood in 
the door. The black girl, evidently as much fright- 
ened as Mrs. Boardman, expressed her feelings in a 
prolonged scream, as she saw the corpse-like face of 
her young mistress, and rushed toward her. 

Mrs. Boardman whispered intensely, 

“Quick, Kitty! water! bring water !” 

Kitty’s scream had attracted the household, and 
water was soon procured, and the fainting girl restored 
to consciousness. 

As she opened her eyes and saw the anxious face 
of her mother above her, she whispered, 

“ God is too good. I can ’t believe it. Oh, mother, 
you do n’t believe it?” 

“ No, my child ; I can ’t believe it,” and Mrs. 
Boardman’ s eyes did not corroborate her words, for 
they sought the paper protruding from Townsend’s 
pocket. 

Amy saw the glance, and turned to Townsend, who 
looked frightened and guilty. He heard what she 
had said, and, without any regard for her feelings, 
and a vulgar desire to confirm what he had hinted at 
before, he stood up, drew out the paper, selected the 


2*0 


TV A.KREN OF TEXAS. 


paragraph, and handed it to Mrs. Boardman. Amy 
drew it down, and both read : 

“Retributive Justice! Mr. Rose, while hunt- 
ing on the eastern shdre of the lake, a few days since, 
found the skeleton of a horse, and several articles of 
clothing that had evidently been washed on shore 
some time ago. One of the articles was a shirt, and 
was marked 4 Robert Warren.’ There can be no fur- 
ther doubt about the fate of the fugitives who were 
taken to the island by that renegade, Tennessee, last 
spring, intending to secrete them. All three must 
have perished in the flood that seemed sent by an 
avenging God to destroy men fleeing from justice. 
Mr. Rose thinks that by a little search in the cane- 
brake he would have found the skeletons ; but we say 
let them rot in the beds of the alligators, after the 
buzzards have picked the bones, and let our feelings 
be joy that justice has overtaken villainy, sorrow that 
the gallows is cheated.” 

Both read the paragraph over, then re-read it, and 
Mrs. Boardman stooped and kissed her daughter. 
Then, handing Townsend the paper, she asked, 

44 Is that all the evidence you have of Robert War- 
ren’s death?” 

44 Well,” replied Townsend, 44 if that do n’t satisfy 
you, nothing will, ’cept fotchin’ the skeleton here and 
showin’ it ter yell.” 

44 No, sir; and that would not prove the identity of 
the skeleton. Robert Warren was used to floods. He 
swam the San Bernard when it flowed a mile wide. 
He saved Johnson — Cooper Johnson — when no man 
would venture to his aid on the Brazos. Robert 
Warren is living, and you, sir, will yet see him and 
know it to your cost.” 


TOWNSEND’S OATH. 


217 


Townsend grew a livid ash color, as Mrs. Board- 
man’s ringing voice ceased, and he managed to 
stammer : 

“ I don’t want it ter be true ; I’d rather not see 
Warren dead.” 

“ You would rather not see him dead?” said Amy, 
now restored, and the color returning to her cheeks. 
“ You, who tried like a cringing coward to assassinate 
him ! How dare you, sir, come into the presence of 
Bobert Warren’s friends with such a lie in your 
mouth?” 

Townsend walked backward down the steps, as if 
to be prepared for some attack, and when he reached 
his horse he shouted : 

“Do yeh both see these eyes?” drawing his hand 
across them as if to point out the location of his 
watery vision. “ These eyes , so help me God , will be 
blasted and dead before they ever rest on Bob Warren /” 

Townsend uttered these words with a fiendish 
energy, that sent a cold thrill through the ladies and 
the wondering servants. Then he mounted, and, 
driving his spurs into his mustang, with an oath that 
hissed between his gritted teeth, he galloped for the 
road. 

The confident tone, assumed before Townsend, van- 
ished on his disappearance, and till long after dark 
both mother and daughter sat on the gallery express- 
ing hope to each other, which their own hearts 
doubted, and forming theories to account for the 
newspaper article, which went to prove that the 
clothing and dead horse might have been on the 
shore from a hundred different causes, and Bobert 
and his friends be still safe. Yet both had received 
19 


218 


BARREN OF TEXAS. 


a terrible blow, and were more than half prepared for 
the worst that might follow. 

They decided to say nothing about the object of 
Townsend’s visit to Mrs. Warren or Mary for the 
present. The death of Mr. Warren, though expected 
for some weeks, was none the less difficult to hear, 
and even the black shadow of this late loss would be 
more than they could endure. 

During the long summer months Mrs. Boardman 
and her daughter kept their secret, and, by daily 
visits and constant attentions, they were a great bless- 
ing to Mrs. Warren and Mary. 

In the latter part of September a visitor called on 
Mrs. Warren. He was a short, thick-set man, about 
fifty years of age, with a very thick neck, in which 
swelled cords could be seen in the red skin, looking 
as if he were holding his breath with an effort, or as 
if the black silk cravat, folded around the very narrow 
collar, were choking him. His mud-dark eyes would 
confirm such a suspicion, for they protruded from the 
sockets as if about to pop out. His chin and cheeks 
were beardless, and seemed of a piece and color with 
his neck. There evidently was not enough skin to 
cover both and admit of any curves at the cheeks or 
chin, for they dropped with the thick neck in a 
straight line. He wore a moustache, that bristled 
like a piece of decayed blacking brush, under a flat 
pug nose, with two large nostrils, that looked as if 
they terminated in a very black cavern in the back 
of his head. He wore a silk hat, very high and nap- 
less, with a very narrow rim, and a turret of very 
rusty crape above it. His clothes had evidently been 
made when he was much more slender, for his arms 


“WILLIAM WALLACE GASTING, ESQ.” 21 3 

fitted his coat sleeves like smoked blood puddings, 
and iiis waist necessitated two loop buttons, that 
vainly strove to bring the edges of his coat together 
over his protruding stomach. His vest had an 
apparent antipathy to his pants, and cravded up under 
his arms, every button buttoned, and his pants recipro- 
cated, going down so as to leave a very wide isthmus 
of shirt between the two. His legs were short and 
badly proportioned, three-fourths the length of the 
sausage-looking extremities being below his knees, 
where they terminated in a pair of shoes well blacked, 
and, judging from their knotty, irregular shape about 
the toes, their owner was a martyr to bunyons. 

This was “William Wallace Gasting, esq.. Con- 
federate States receiver for the southern counties of 
Texas, headquarters Richmond, Fort Bend County.” 

Mr. Gasting could not ride on horseback ; no man 
in Texas walks, so he drova about in a buggy, and 
thought the buggy more professional for a lawyer. 
He was the man who had married Mary’s New Eng- 
land governess. He was himself from Philadelphia, 
and was reputed to be wealthy in cattle and slaves. 
In ’57 he was in the legislature, but all previous 
honors paled before the new one conferred upon him 
by the Confederate States government. 

Mr. Gasting was announced, and as he entered the 
parlor Mrs. Warren rose to receive him, but he waived 
her with a majestic air to a seat, blew his nose on a 
flaming red handkerchief with a sound like the first 
two notes of a cavalry charge. Then running two 
fingers around between his throat and his collar, and 
stretching up his neck as if he wished to crawl out of 
bis wrapping, like a very large turtle in a very small 


220 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


shell, Mr. Gasting coughed, sat down, with his ivory- 
headed cane between his legs, and his hat on top of 
his cane, and fumbled with his disengaged hand in 
his breast coat pocket. William Wallace Gasting 
spoke in a voice that was very sharp and thin, sound- 
ing as if it originated in the back part of his itiouth, 
his thick throat being too full to admit even a sound 
w ithout bursting : 

“ Mrs. Warren, I visit you to-day on strictly profes- 
sional business, madam. Very sorry that sympathies 
and duties should be antagonistic.” 

Mr. Gasting struggled with his necktie and looked 
at Mrs Warren as if he expected her to say some- 
thing, and seeing that she was about to say something, 
he sympathetically cleared his own throat by another 
little cough. 

“ What may be your pleasure in visiting me profes- 
sionally, Mr. Gasting?” asked Mrs. Warren, as Mary, 
in her mourning dress, entered the room. 

“ 1 have no pleasure of my own, madam. I am the 
servant of the country. I come to obey the mandates 
of my superiors, and to do that well will ever be my 
greatest pleasure.” 

Mr. Gasting struggled with his cravat, and turned 
his protruding eyes inquiringly on Mrs. Warren as he 
concluded this patrotic speech. 

“ And what are the mandates of your superiors that 
you should come to my house professionally, Mr. Gast- 
ing?” 

“To your house? Did I understand you to say to 
your house, madam ?” 

Seeing that Mr. Gasting needed a reply, from his 
violent struggles, Mrs. Warren intimated that sh* 
meant “ her house.” 


CONFISCATION. 


221 


“ I did not come to your house, madam ! This 
abode and the surrounding property, lately in the 
ownership of Robert Warren, senior, now deceased, 
and bequeathed to his son Robert, excepting the 
widow’s dower, is by me declared confiscated to the 
Confederate States government, whose receiver I am 
for the southern district of Texas.” 

Mr. Gasting felt easier after this, for he coughed, 
walked to the window and spit out on the gallery ; then 
wriggling his neck through his collar, he sat down. 

Mrs. Warren, with her white, thin hands clasped on 
her knees, looked at Mr. Gasting without uttering a 
word. That gentleman waited till the silence became 
painful, when he continued : 

“ Our government, madam, in its magnanimity, has 
decided that those who sympathize with the fanatics 
of the North shall receive safe conduct across the lines. 
At the same time it has wisely concluded to seize for 
its own use such houses, lands, or other real property 
as the person may be possessed of in the limits of the 
Confederate States, and any debts owed to such per- 
sons by any citizen of the Confederate States must 
hereafter be paid to the Confederate States receiver, 
and any money owed to parties North is also confis- 
cated for the use of the aforesaid Confederate States.” 

“Do I understand, Mr. Gasting, that you are author- 
ized to turn me out of my house simply because my 
deceased husband and fugitive son sided with their 
country?” asked Mrs. Warren, in a calm voice, with 
her dark eyes turned on Mr. Gasting. 

“Madam, you are naturally prejudiced in favor of 
your husband and son. You do not comprehend the 
offenses of which the nation judges them guilty. The 
19 * 


222 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


law is inflexible.” Mr. G-asting struggled with his 
necktie and coughed till the veins stood like cords on 
his fat forehead. 

In the same quiet voice, Mrs. Warren said : 

“ Mr. Gasting, I always thought a trial was neces- 
sary before a person was judged guilty. I have no 
power to oppose you ; I can only say that one-half the 
land comprising Mr. Warren’s estate belongs to my 
daughter Mary, and one-half the people on this place. 
Consequently you can only confiscate my son's half.” 

“Very true, madam; but your son’s half includes 
the cultivated portion of the plantation, on which this 
house stands. I might sieze all the rest, for in my 
opinion your husband could not make a will after the 
passage of the act of confiscation. The regard my 
wife bears your daughter, however, prompts me to 
step from the line of duty and accept Mr. Warren’s 
will, as recently admitted to piobate. The personal 
property, included by the words household furniture, 
I think you can retain.” 

Mr. Gasting straightened up and tried to look phi- 
lanthropic, and concluded by adjusting the flimsy line 
of collar squeezed above the black cravat. 

“How long can we remain here, sir?” asked Mrs. 
Warren, a perceptible tremor in her voice. 

“ One week, madam, or till after the sale,” said 
Mr. Gasting. Then taking from his pocket a brown 
envelope, with a red seal at each corner and one in 
the middle, he handed it to Mrs. Warren, informing 
her it was his commission as “ Confederate States 
receiver.” She held it in her hand and looked at 
him, while he stood up and coughed with more than 
usual importance and looked more than usually red. 


“THE BLACK, COLD FUTURE.” 223 

Then he spoke with greater deliberation, looking around 
him all the time, as if addressing a large audience. 

“I, William Wallace Gasting, Confederate States 
receiver for the Southern district of the State of 
Texas, by virtue of the power in me vested, do now 
and hereby seize, for the sole use of the Confederate 
States of America, the houses, lands, negroes, cattle, 
and all other property whatsoever, bequeathed to 
Robert Warren, junior, by his father, Robert Warren, 
senior ; and I do further declare that, on the first 
Monday in October, proximo, I will sell all such 
property, at public auction, for the benefit of the 
Confederate States before named.” 

Mr. Gasting took his hat off his stick and coughed 
himself purple. He looked at Mrs. Warren as if he 
wished her to speak, but her white, thin hands were 
still clasped on her black dress and her eyes cast on 
the ground. Mr. Gasting turned and said : “ Good 
day, madam,” and Mrs. Warren whispered “ Good 
day,” while the Confederate States receiver hurried 
to his buggy with the air of a man who had just per- 
formed a most praiseworthy act. 

With Mr. Warren dead and Robert unheard from ; 
with their once happy home torn from them, and 
the black, cold future before them, the mother and 
daughter sat in the room for some minutes without 
speaking. They were crushed ; and as Mrs. Warren 
realized the utter loneliness of her position, in a low 
wail, she called out : 

“ Oh, my God ! my God ! take me, take me !” 

Mary rose quickly and clasped her mother to her 
breast, and the kiss of the loving daughter opened 
the fountains of the aching heart, and both women 
mingled their tears, and each tried to cheer the other. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 




THE FOUR WOMEN IN COUNCIL. 

About an hour after Mr. Gasting left, Mrs. Board- 
man and Amy came over to Mrs. Warren’s on their 
daily visit. Mrs. Boardman was astonished to see 
the fresh evidences of grief on the faces of her 
friends, and at first feared that Mrs. Warren might 
have heard the story about Robert’s death. She 
soon learned the true state of the case, and, though 
she felt keenly for her friend, she was rejoiced that it 
was no worse. She had long desired to have Mrs. 
Warren and Mary with her, and now she would have 
an opportunity to carry out her plans. Amy was 
much more excited, and felt like declaring war upon 
Mr. Gasting at once, for she said : 

“Don’t give up the place, Mrs. Warren. Stay here, 
and mother and T will remain with you ; and if that 
hideous Gasting comes again we will put him out. 
lie must not take your home and break your heart, 
and rob Robert.” 

Amy might have continued in this excited strain 
had not her sobs choked her utterance, and tears 
come to her relief. 

“It will do no good to oppose them, dear Amy,” 
said Mrs. Warren in a sad tone ; “we are only women, 
and if you and your mother took decided action in my 
behalf it might result in the loss of your own home.” 


OLD TOWNSEND.. 


225 


“Let them take it if they dare !” said the spirited 
girl. “Robert will be back soon, and then I do not 
think they will wish to retain what they have stolen.” 

Mrs. Boardman laid her hand with a gentle restraint 
upon Amy’s arm and said : 

“My dear Mrs. Warren, I have long wished that 
we might live all together till after the war, but I did 
not ask you while I knew there were so many cares to 
detain you here. I cannot think it wise to oppose 
those people in any way ; so get everything you de- 
sire to move in readiness, and send them to my house, 
and then come yourself. It is your only alternative, 
for I am sure that heartless man, Gasting, will insist 
on an immediate sale.” 

Mary thanked Mrs. Boardman and agreed that her 
suggestion was best. Mrs. WArren also consented, 
and promised to make preparations at once. 

During the following week all the plate and more 
valuable furniture were moved to Mrs. Boardman’s, 
and Mrs. Warren and Mary only waited for the sale 
in order to leave. In the meantime a number of men 
from Houston had called to examine the property and 
a*sk questions about the hands, the stock, and other 
purchasable articles. Mrs. Warren treated them 
with her usual courtesy and dignity, though it required 
a great deal of control to meet old Mr. Townsend. 
He was a long, cadaverous-looking man, with grey 
eyes and lantern jaws, and a disagreeable whine, with 
which he closed a sentence with the words “ Sure as 
I live,” or “I don’t prevaricate — honest.” 

Townsend owned a fine cotton plantation up the 
river, aud, with his fifty slaves aud eight thousand 
horned cattle, was considered wealthy. Rough and 


226 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


uneducated, be had great natural shrewdness, and lie 
boasted with truth that he never lost in a bargain. 
As soon as the confiscation act was passed, he looked 
greedily on the rich plantation and splendid improve- 
ments of “the Warren place,” and determined if it 
was offered for sale to be the purchaser. Among 
many people in the section there was a strong desire 
not to trouble Mrs. Warren or her daughter, but to 
let them remain quietly in possession of their home. 
But both the Townsends kept alive the old wounds, 
and invented lies to turn the people against the War- 
rens, and in this they were to a great extent success- 
ful. The elder Townsend learned with unfeigned 
pleasure of the confiscation of Robert Warren’s prop- 
erty, for it gratified his hatred for the man, and more 
than this, gave him an opportunity to better his con- 
dition in the world. His own place was valuable, but 
he could not retain it and purchase the Warren plan- 
tation. He did what a shrewd business man would 
have done. under the circumstances, he sold his own 
place and parted with his stock in order to secure a 
property infinitely more valuable. Learning that 
others had been looking for the property, he frightened 
them off by showing that in case the Yankees were 
successful the sale would be worthless and the money 
lost ; but while he spoke of this risk to others he 
never for a moment permitted himself to doubt the 
success of the southern cause. Consequently, when 
the day for the sale came Mr. Townsend had few com- 
petitors, and with the exception of a few of the older 
hands, he succeeded in becoming the owner of the 
Warren plantation, and master of nearly three hundred 
slaves — among them Susey and “the pickaninnies.” 


MARY’S DETERMINATION. 


227 


Mrs. Boardman and Amy did everything for tin* 
comfort of their friends, and Mrs. Warren in a few 
weeks began to improve under their loving care, but 
Mary became more pale and thoughtful ; she would 
often sit with her hands clasped before her, gazing 
across the prairie to the old home, and looking at 
times as if her thoughts were far away from Texas 
and the world. 

One evening as they sat at tea, Mary startled her 
hearers by saying : “ I have an unaccountable desire 
to leave here and go to Kentucky. I have been think- 
ing about it ever since Gasting’s first visit. You re- 
member, mother, he said that those desiring to go 
North would be passed safely .through the lines. Of 
course you could not go. You will be perfectly safe 
with Mrs. Boardman, and I feel as if this life of act- 
less suspense would kill me.” 

For a few seconds the little party was struck mute 
by this propostion of Mary ; then Mrs. Boardman said : 

“ Why, you silly child, it can’t be thought of for an 
instant,” and Mrs. Warren, dropping her fork, looked 
ovei at Mary with a startled expression, and said: 
“ My daughter, you are all I have in the world ; don’t 
leave me ; I can’t give you up.” The warm-hearted, 
impetuous Amy sprang from her seat and rushing over 
to her young friend, knelt beside her, and putting her 
arms around Mary’s waist, she said : 

“No, no, Mary! you must not leave us. Don’t I 
love you? Yes, we all love you, and want to see you 
happy.” 

Mary stooped, and, parting the browr hair, kissed 
Amy’s white forehead, saying: 

“My darling sister, what could- induce me to doubt 


228 


BARREN OF TEXAS. 


your love? This desire to leave is not an impulse, 
T have thought it all over, and feel it to be a sacred 
duty. Now, mother, do not look surprised. Let me ex- 
plain. Here day after day I feel the desire to do 
something befitting a woman in this war. I wish it 
were womanly to risk my life that the war might 
close the sooner, but it is not. I remember how no- 
bly Florence Nightingale worked for the sick an^ 
wounded Crimean soldiers, and what a noble influence 
her very presence must have had upon them. Now we 
all get to picturing possibilities to ourselves atAimes. 
I do by day, and I dream the same by night. Last 
night in my sleep I saw Robert carried by four men, 
and his eyes were closed and the blood dripped from 
his breast. I thought I asked one of the men if Rob- 
ert was dead, and he said “no my lady, but fearfully 
wounded ; he wants a kind hand to nurse him — come 
with us.” I woke terribly frightened, and I clasped 
my hands and asked God to guide me, and when I 
slept again I heard that tall soldier’s voice saying 
“Come, come.” 

This statement of Mary had a strange effect on the 
little audience. The tears stole quietly down Mrs. 
Warren’s cheeks, and Mrs. Boardman fidgeted ner- 
vously with her handkerchief, while Amy rose and 
walked thoughtfully to the window. The silence 
might have continued some time, had not Amy pro- 
posed that they should go out on the gallery. Hardly 
had they been seated outside, than Mrs. Warren sug- 
gested a difficulty which Mary had not foreseen ; she 
said : 

“My daughter, I would be willing to give you up 
if I thought you could reach, in safety, some place 


DEVISING WAYS AND MEANS. 


229 


where there are hospitals, but this to me is doubtful. 
However, the greatest difficulty in the way is the want 
of means. I know very little about the investments 
of your father, even if they were available, and I do 
not think I have more than one hundred dollars in 
money, and this is much too small a sum for you to 
undertake your journey on.” 

Mrs. Boardman drew nearer to Mary and said, “My 
dear child, I appreciate your motives very much, and 
under the circumstances, if assured of your safety, I 
would be willing to let you go. Unfortunately at this 
time I am very short of money. I cannot realize 
now on the cotton which is being gathered, and Mr. 
Gilles, my Galveston agent, did not sell my last year's 
crop, for motives that to him seemed prudent. I can 
get you, if you persist in going, a few hundred dollars ; 
you should have, however, fully one thousand.” 

While they were talking darkness came on, and 
unperceived a black woman came up the road and 
stood beside Mary on the gallery. She might have 
stood for wme Vime unnoticed had not her sobs at- 
tracted Mary’s attention, and she turned to take 
Susey’s black hand, and to receive on her own the 
tears and kisses of the faithful servant. 

“Oh, Miss Mary f” she began, “ I ’se mighty glad 
to see yeh. ’Pears like an age since yeh luffed de 
house, an’ all ’s berry lonely now, Miss Mary.” Susey 
kissed the hand of her young mistress again, and then 
went over to Mrs. Warren and said: “Miss Ellen, 
how ’s yeh? Strong, I hope, an’ a trustin’ in de 
Lor’.” 

Mrs. Warren assured her that she was feeling better, 
and that she looked to God for comfort. 

20 


230 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“How are the people getting on, Susey, under Mr. 
Townsend?” asked Mary. 

“Dey’s doin’ well ’s kin be ’spected, Miss. Mauss 
Townsend tole Dolp yesterday that Mr. Gasting had 
bought his old place, an’ that he was agoin’ to sell all 
de hans what did n’t do well.” • 

“ I hope, under those circumstances,” said Mary, 
“ that the people will be careful, for I have no doubt 
Mr. Townsend means what he said.” 

“Yeh ain’t heerd nothin’ from Mauss Robut an’ de 
pickanins, lies yeh ? ” asked Susey. 

“Nothing,” said Mary, “but I feel confident Rob- 
ert will come back before very long, and w’e will 
return to the old home,” said Mary. 

“But, Miss Mary, Arcliy ’ll be back too, won’t 
he ?” asked Susey in a supplicating tone. 

“ Oh, yes, Susey, Archy will of course return with 
his master.” 

“Then,” said Susey, “my heart ’ll larf wdd joy, an’ 
de pickaninnies will meet him at de doah.” 

Mary then took Susey to the end of the gallery and 
told her of her intention to leave, and seek out Rob- 
ert, at the same time explaining the great difficulty 
arising from the want of money. 

“ Miss Mary,” said Susey, “ Yeh knows I love yeh 
like my own soul.” 

“I know that, Susey,” said Mary, laying her hand 
on the black arm of her late servant. 

“Well, Miss Mary,” continued Susey, “I did ’nt 
know r yeh was agoin’ to leave, but I know ’d yeh 
must n’t have much money. Jes’ afore Archy left, 
ole mauss gave him a lot of money, an’ Archy says 
to me, ‘Susey, dar’s more ’n I want; take de half, 
yeb may want it, pool chile.’ So I took it, an’ I ’se 


THE STOCKING OF GOLD. 


231 


alias carried it here in my breast, Miss Mary, more 
fur Archy like. An’ when I come’d over to-day, I 
was ago in’ to give it to yeh. Now, Miss Mary, I 
wants yeh to take it. Do n’t say nothin’, it ’s all fur 
you,” and Susey took the two hundred dollars in 
gold from her breast and forced it into her young mis- 
tresses hand. 

“Why, Susey, I cannot take your money. Keep 
it ; no doubt if Mr. Townsend remains your master 
you will need it before long,” said Mary, handing 
back the cotton stocking in which Susey had rolled 
the money. 

“ No, please, Miss Mary. Oh, do take it and use it. 
Yeh can get it all back fur me when Mauss Robut 
an’ Archy comes back. Heah, Miss, do please take 
it from Aunt Susey,” and the black woman forced 
back the*money with an earnest pressure into the 
hand of her young mistress, adding, “ May de good 
Lor 5 bless yeh, Miss Mary, and may we be happy 
agin in de ole home.” So saying, Susey again 
kissed the white hand, and bidding the others good- 
bye, hurriedly left the gallery and walked out the 
straight road across the prairie. 

During this time Texas was free from the dangers 
and excitements incident to the States east of the 
Mississippi. At times there were rumors of the Yan- 
kee fleets attacking Galveston, or landing large 
armies on some other point of the coast. While 
there were thousands of Union men in the State, not 
one dared, after the secession, to speak his sentiments. 
Hamilton, Anderson, and other leaders had fled. Hun- 
dreds had been hung or died in prison, and thus forced 
by public opinion into the Confederate armies. The 
business of the State was not suspended, for a large 


232 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


trade was carried on with Mexico, and gold was 
always in circulation in the State. Long trains laden 
with cotton were daily sent to Brownsville on the 
Rio Grande, and returned, laden with foreign supplies 
to Houston. A remarkable feature in this business was 
that, while many of the goods were intended 'for 
Louisiana and States even across the Mississippi, where 
salt, leather, and medicine were needed, still the 
greater part of the supplies imported into Texas — and 
the same is true of every southern State — were the 
luxuries, like wines, silks, perfumes, and the latest 
fashionable apparel for ladies. The Confederate 
States government knew this tendency of the people, 
and enacted laws controlling imports. 

A week rolled by after Mary had announced her 
intention to leave Texas, and nearly every hour in 
the day the subject which engrossed he^ constant 
thoughts was reverted to. Mrs. Boardman became 
convinced at last that it would be better to let Mary 
go, and to this Mrs. Warren and Amy finally assented, 
and plans were considered for her journey. 

At that time a journey to Tennessee or Kentucky 
would have been no ordinary undertaking for even a 
strong man, and it was much more difficult for a young 
girl who had never learned even to help herself. One 
thousand miles to where the Union armies were — a 
long journey even with every facility. But the block- 
ade had stopped the steamers from Galveston to New 
Orleans, and there was no continued railroad commu- 
nication with any of the Mississippi towns. Indeed 
there was no line of stages running to the river, and 
a traveler would be compelled to hire private convey- 
ances the greater part of the distance. But there 
was a will and a way. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE JOURNEY TO TENNESSEE. 

Mary had fully determined to carry out her plans, 
and her friends ceased to offer opposition. Prepara- 
tions were made for the journey, and the four ladies 
for days consulted the large map of the United States 
hanging in the library. Never did generals in a 
council of war more carefully consider the advantages 
and disadvantages of every suggested plan. After 
much study it was decided that the best course lay 
through the range of the Sabine River, thence through 
Louisiana to the Mississippi, and up the Mississippi 
to Vicksburg or Memphis. One trunk was considered 
enough, and i; was agreed that she should take, for 
appearance sake and assistance, one of Mrs. Board- 
man’s servants, a stout boy named Tom, about four- 
teen years of age. Amy insisted on accompanying 
her friend to Orange, which was the terminus of the 
railroad running east from Houston. 

It was difficult for both Mrs. Warren and Mary to 
part. They had never been separated, and yet the 
blow was not so hard as if jt had been the first, for 
gradually the heart becomes acquainted with sorrow. 
It was eight miles to Columbia, on the Brazos, where 
thej were to take the cars for Houston, and the car- 
riage was waiting and the farewells uttered with sobs, 
20 * 


234 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


when Susey appeared, out of breath, to bid her young 
mistress good-bye. 

“ Oh, Miss Mary, if I could only go ’long to keer fur 
an’ watch yth, an’ to see Archy an’ Mauss Robut.” 

“Don’t fret, Susey,” said Mary, the tears flowing 
down her own cheeks. “ I will come back before long 
with Robert and Archy, and we will all live happily in 
the old home.” 

“ Oh, I prays de Lor’ fur dat. Come soon, or I can’t 
lib. Yesterday, Mauss Townsend whipped me kase I 
spoke ’bout de ole mauss, an’ I ’se so sore I can’t stan’ 
skeerce.” Then changing her tone, she said: “But 
whin yeh sees Archy, don’t tell him, miss. Jes’ say 
Susey ’s well, an’ de pickaninnies is awaitin’. An’, 
Miss Mary, if ’t ain’t no trubbel, jes’ gib Archy dese 
socks, an’ say I knit ’em at night whin de chillen wuz 
a-sleepin’.” 

Mary promised to take the socks to Archy c Fare- 
wells were given again, and the carriage rolled over 
the prairie, and Mrs. Warren, on the gallery, gave full 
vent to iier suppressed grief. 

So busy were the girls with their own thoughts that 
but little was said as the carriage dashed along to 
Columbia. A few miles below the town they struck 
the muddy, winding Brazos, with its sleepy waters and 
steep clay banks, covered with a dense and tropical 
vegetation. 

Reaching Columbia, a straggling village of some 
six hundred inhabitants, they learned from Mr. Cole, 
a kind-hearted merchant, that it would be necessary 
to have passes, and these he promised to secure from 
the provost marshal, a man named Church. 

The people who fought in the South were southern 


DOUGHFACES— EN ROUTE. 


235 


men by birth, or espoused the cause from principle. 
The majority of the military non-combatants were 
northern men, and they were quartermasters, purvey- 
ors, or provost marshals in nine cases out of ten. It 
was a safe way of showing their love for the Confed- 
eracy. Mr. Church was no exception to the rule ; he 
was a Yankee by birth and a southern man from sel- 
fish motives. He would have been a cannibal, with 
his relatives for victims, had it paid. 

After much trouble the conscientious marshal was 
induced to give the two young ladies passes to Orange 
and back, to expire in four days, and he charged them 
for his generosity the moderate sum of ten dollars. 
By 1 1 o’clock in the morning they dismissed the car- 
riage, crossed the ferry to the railroad station, secured 
tickets for themselves and Tom, and took seats in the 
very shabby and dilapidated car which was supposed 
to be “reserved for ladies,” but into which, as a con- 
sequence, all the men without ladies crowded. 

The railroad to Houston was never a good one, 
owing to the scarcity of stone or gravel in that region 
for ballast. Since the war it was particularly bad, 
and the greatest speed the cars dared make on it in 
dry weather was eight miles an hour. Frequently the 
train was detained while the black brakesmen cut 
wood for the locomotive, or carried up water in buck- 
ets from some muddy bayou to the tender. It was very 
tiresome* going the sixty-three miles to Houston, and 
Mary ventured to ask an old gentleman who sat behind 
her at what time he thought they would reach Houston. 

The old gentleman spit out of the window to clear 
his mouth, and wiping his grey beard with his coat 
sleeve, said : 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


236 

“ >t r .vk' < miss, that depen’s on circumstances. They 
have a iw<v set of han’s on this train, an’ they are 
doin’ right well, I think, but the ole han’s used to 
stop to chase wild turkeys along the road, so it made 
the trip right smart weary. One time the engineer 
an’ fireman went off with the brakesman and con- 
ductor afte/ deer, an’ all han’s got down to Oyster 
Creek an’ got drunk.” 

“But what did the passengers do?” asked Amy in 
some alarm. 

“ Oh, mist?, they knowed it was a joke, though they 
cussed right smart. Howdsomdever, we went back 
to ole Stephens, an’ got a mule team an’ hauled one 
of the cars t\own agin to Columbia. We had a gay 
time that night, miss,” and the ole man laughed at 
the memory of the festive occasion. 

‘ ‘ Do you imagine, sir, that anything will happen 
to prevent our getting in before dark?” asked Mary 
nervously. 

“I do n ’ l know miss, I hope not,” said the old man. 
But I see tkar’s a stiff breeze a blowin’ frum the east ; 
if it goes aioun’ south why we ’ll jest fly to Houston ; 
if it goes north or northeast, it ’ll be slap agin us, an’ 
we ’ll have to come to anchor. Why bless you, I ’ve 
often stopped all night on these here prairies with a 
head wind. Once we wuz two hull days out without 
anything to eat an’ nothin’ to drink but water. We 
all got so hungry we’d have eaten a raw baby. Since 
then, miss, I alius carries three days’ pervisions.” 

“ But the train used to go much faster, I am sure, 
for I have been over the road frequently,” said Mary. 

“Yes, yer right miss, but I reckon as how that was 
afore the war ; now the track is all willow’-wallerey 


ANDREW JOHNSON’S BROTHER. 


237 


like, an’ no one seems to keer fur fixin’ it. Now jist 
lissen to that ole engine,” said the grey-headed man, 
putting his head out of the window. “ Do ye hear 
her a wheezin’ ? Wall, if she don’t bust in a week I ’ll 
eat her,” and the old man drew his coat sleeve across 
his mouth as if to prepare for the feast, and then 
added, “ Howdsomdever, we kin git along better with- 
out any engines.” 

Mary looked doubtingly at the old man, who, deem- 
ing an explanation necessary, said, “ Wall, ye see I’d 
have sails on the cars an’ go up at night, whin the 
wind comes frum the Gulf, an’ then come back in 
the mornin’ whin the wind ’s off land.” 

The young ladies could not help smiling at this 
novel idea, and for some time the conversation 
dropped. After an hour’s dull riding, and while the 
train was stopped for wood, the old man walked to 
the end of the car, looked out, and came back. He 
was about sixty years of age, rather stout, and of 
medium height. His dress was coarse, his boots 
heavy and dirty, and his hands large and tanned. He 
looked like one of the lower order of southern whites, 
but under his coarse appearance there was an expres- 
sion of kindness, and an easy, good-natured sort of 
indecision. Mary thought as he came back that she 
recognized him as 44 Cooper Johnson,” a poor man 
with a very large family of ignorant daughters living 
in Columbia, and the same person whom Robert had 
saved at one time when the Brazos was flooded. He 
worked in the sugar plantations along the river, and 
was looked upon as a good-natured, lazy sort of a 
man, who never gave a thought to the morrow. He 
was a Tennesseean, or claimed to be, but he was o' 


238 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


so little importance that nobody seemed to care for 
his antecedents. Since the war, however, he had 
become an object of some note. He was a strong 
southern man in his feelings, as he would have been 
anything else to oblige his neighbors, and he was 
never so happy as when in a bar-room he would say : 

“ Now, gentlemen, it ain’t my fault ; my family should 
not be disgraced kase my brother is a Yankee. We 
never did hitch well, fur Andy wuz alius an onery 
cuss, an’ I ’m not surprised he ’s a traitor to his coun- 
try.” 

Cooper Johnson was a brother of no less a person 
than Andrew Johnson, then a United States Senator 
and the military governor of Tennessee. 

* It was nearly dark when the train reached Houston, 
and though both the young ladies had visiting ac- 
quaintances there, they preferred, under the circum- 
stances, to go to the Verandah Hotel, where they 
obtained a pleasant room for the night. On the fol- 
lowing morning they took the train for Orange, which 
place they reached in the evening. All the hotels 
were crowded, and the young ladies searched in vain 
for a place to stop all night. Their inquiries attracted 
the attention of a young artillery officer, who gen- 
erously offered them his room, and learning that one 
of the young ladies was going on to Haines’s Bluff he 
promised to get her a ticket in the morning, and have 
her trunk taken to the steamboat going north. There 
was no alternative but to accept this kind offer, and 
on learning their intention the young officer had the 
room prepared and the baggage of the young ladies 
taken to it. 

The two anxious hearts were wonderfully disguised 


THE TRANSFER OF TOM. 


239 


as they beat side by side in the little bed-room that 
night. There was an attempt to laugh at their situa- 
tion, though both felt like crying, and as Mary thought 
of the long journey and the indefinite course before 
her, she secretly wished herself back at Gronzelletta. 
They slept but little during the night, for there were 
a hundred things to talk about, and air-castles to build 
for their future abode. Next morning they were up 
before the sun, and everything was in readiness. 
They had an early breakfast, of which neither could 
eat, and then they sat down to await the arrival of 
the young officer, who promised to see Mary to the 
steamer and afterwards escort Amy to the train, for, 
seeing his gentlemanly bearing, the girls trusted him 
with this part of their secret. 

“I have been thinking, dear Amy,” said Mary, as 
they sat with their hands embraced, “ that you ought 
to take Tom back with you. I am sure I shall be 
able to get along, and I do not like the idea of your 
going home alone.” 

“ You dear, unselfish old thing,” said Amy, kissing 
her, “ why I will be safely at home to-morrow night, 
and there are ever so many hundred miles before you. 
Tom used to be my body-guard, and he is a very 
strong boy with a good heart, and so very funny 
sometimes. By the way, he was a birthday present 
to me, and I will now transfer him to you, to be yours 
forever. You know, you old darling,” she continued, 
toying with Mary’s black hair, “that in addition to 
Tom’s being able to manage your trunk, you will have 
more attention shown you if you travel with a ser- 
vant.” 

So the disposition of Tom was settled. Then Amy 


240 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


walked to the window, and opening a silk purse she 
poured the contents into her lap and began to count. 
She had ninety-three dollars. Twelve would take her 
home, but in case of accident she would take sixteen. 
She then put seventy-five dollars back into the purse, 
and walking to the bed, where Mary was sitting, 'she 
put her arms around her, and said : 

“Now, old pet, I have a request to make, and if 
you do not grant it, I will not kiss you for ever so 
long,” and Amy finished her sentence with a kiss. 

“ Yes, yes, dear Amy, I will grant you any request 
in the world,’ ’ said Mary, returning the warm-hearted 
girl’s caress. 

“ Then take this,” handing her the purse, “and use 
it for me on the road. Now, not a word. Mother 
always gives me more money than I need, and, like a 
little miser, I had this put away. Tell Robert he 
must pay me when he comes back, or give me a — a — 
what do you call those things, you know, where you 
promise to pay money — Mrs. Gasting used to teach 
us about them ? ” 

Mary suggested, laughingly, “a note.” 

“ Oh, yes, a note — and now you are a darling and 
just the sweetest, prettiest sister I ever want to have.” 

Mary held the purse in her hand, with her head cast 
down and her parted lips trembling. Two great tears 
swelled on her long lashes, and then she turned and 
threw her arms around Amy. The embrace was 
returned, and though for awhile each tried to restrain 
her tears, the emotions were stronger than the wills, 
and they wept in each other’s arms. Before they 
could dry their tears a servant came up with Captain 
Brown’s card, on which he had penciled his “ com* 


/ 


A LONG FAREWELL. 241 

pliments, and the boat will start in fifteen minutes.” 
They put on their things hurriedly, directed the ser- 
vant to have the trunk sent to the boat, a duty 
the captain had attended to. Then they descended 
and found the captain waiting, and learning there was 
plenty of time to walk to the boat, the three started 
toward the river. The captain, on reaching the 
steamer, had Mary’s trunk checked and secured her 
ticket, promising to see Amy off on the train which 
left in half an hour for Houston. Then the paddles 
of the steamboat played around, and she strained the 
great ropes that held her to the pier. The escaping 
steam sounded like a cry of impatience. The bell 
tolled ten minutes before starting. Then came the 
farewell, and Mary was left on deck with the wonder- 
ing blacl| boy. The ropes were loosed, there was a 
loud hoarse whistle, and the steamer backed out and 
headed up the stream. Amy stood on the pier with 
the captain, waving God-speeds to her friend, and 
Mary from the deck answered, till, like a dream, the 
steamer was lost up the river. Then Amy, with her 
noble escort, turned to retrace her steps to Gon- 
zelletta. 

Up the Sabine, with its sluggish, turbid waters, the 
steamer glided. There was no interest in its low 
banks covered with cottonwood trees, and no history 
or tradition gave character to its many bends and 
bayous. There is a saying, however, among Texans, 
that “ those who enter the State by the Sabine, and 
drink of its waters, will never leave Texas, and once 
at least in their lives they will be guilty of horse- 
stealing.” There were no doubt grounds for this 
belief in the early history of the State, and it was a 
21 


242 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


good thought to cast the blame on the waters. For 
a long time Mary sat musing and watching the waves 
from the advancing steamer as they rushed against 
the muddy shores. The future, the past, and the 
present blended like a kaleidoscope in her mind, and, 
turn it as she would, no combination brought comfort 
to her heart. At length she bethought herself of 
Tom, and seeking out that worthy, she found him 
leaning over the side of the steamer, with the end of 
a huge piece of string in his hand, the end that hung 
in the water being adorned with a crooked pin, to 
which was attached a piece of red flannel. In answer 
to Mary’s 

“ What are you doing here, Tom?” he replied : 

“Why, Miss Mary, I’se a fishin’ fur muds, an’, if 
I ’m right smart, I reckon I ’ll have a big pile fur 
mammy by the time she gets home.” 

She brought him back to her former place, and 
said, as she made him sit down beside her : 

“ Tom, don’t you know it will be a very long time 
before you see your mammy again ?” 

“ Hi, Miss Mary, dat ’s good !” said Tom, with 
evident delight, “I doesn’t git wollopings den frum 
mammy. You won’t wallop me much, will yell, 
miss ?” 

Mary could not repress a smile as she said : 

“ I hope you will be a good, faithful boy, and 
need no punishment, Tom.” 

“ Oh, Lor’, Miss Mary, I ’ll be ever so good, an’ I ’ll 
tote dat ’ar chist all day,” and Tom started in the 
direction of the trunk, as if to put his boast into 
practice, but Mary kindly restrained him, and he 
went back to fish. 


NW FRIENDS. 


243 


As the steamer neared Haines’s Bluff, about noon, 
an elderly gentleman, accompanied by a beautiful 
girl about Mary’s age, and apparently his daughter, 
walked past where she sat several times. Stopping at 
length before her, the gentleman spoke in a general 
way about the weather, the scenery, the difficulties 
of travel, and the war. Mary was delighted to find 
a kind, fatherly person to talk to, and after a few 
minutes the gentleman sat down, and, with a tone of 
kindly interest, asked : 

“ Are you going further than the Bluff, miss? You 
will pardon the inquiry, but I see you are unattended, 
excepting your inexperienced servant, ” turning to- 
ward Tom and smiling. “ Should you be going 
further, I should be happy to aid you.” Then turn- 
ing to the young lady by his side he said, looking at 
Mary, “ This is my daughter — Miss Louisa Henry, 
Miss ” 

“ Warren,” said Mary. 

After the introduction Mary thanked Mr. Henry, 
and told him she desired to go to Vicksburg. 

“ That is a long journey for a lady to make alone 
in such times.” 

“Yes, sir; but with me it is imperative. I am 
going on to see a soldier brother of mine, from whom 
we have not heard since the war.” 

“ I am very glad to have met you, for, as I live on 
Berwick’s Bay, from which point steamers go up the 
Atchafalaya to Vicksburg, I hope to be of some ser- 
vice in getting you North comfortably.” 

Mary expressed her thanks to Mr. Henry, and in- 
wardly breathed a prayer to God, who had raised up 
a friend. 


244 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The steamer had now reached Haines’s Bluff, a 
miserable cluster of log houses perched on the muddy 
bank constituting the town, which rose into import- 
ance during the war as the terminus of a stage line 
running east to New Iberia. There were no arcom- 
modations for the great swarm of travelers going in 
both directions, but, as the weather was fine, hundreds 
bivouacked under the great trees, or made temporary 
shelters from the branches. Here was a large camp of 
Texas recruits preparing to go beyond the Mississippi, 
and a long train of wagons waiting to take supplies 
east. All was noise, swagger, and confusion. Mr. 
Henry found that the limited stage accommodation 
had been secured weeks ahead, and, as he had no 
desire to wait his turn, he set about purchasing or 
hiring a private conveyance. He was unsuccessful 
in his first attempt. He succeeded, however, in get- 
ting a room in one of the log houses for the young 
ladies, and in procuring something to eat. It was 
simply impossible for those unaccustomed to every 
variety of noise to sleep at Haines’s Bluff that night. 
Hundreds of men, under the influence of liquor, or 
imbued with the bravado peculiar to uneducated men 
under excitement, made night hideous with their wild 
yells and drunken orgies, while the mules seemed 
possessed for the time with the general spirit of reck- 
lessness and dissipation, if one might judge from the 
war of kicks and the din of unmusical brays that 
added to the uproar and confusion. 


CHAPTER XXY. 


V HE JOURNEY CONTINUED. 

About iiour\ the next clay, Mr. Henry succeeded in 
purchasing a very dilapidated conveyance, from a 
party who had just come west from Vermillion 
Rough and unreliable as the so-called “ light wagon ” 
was, it was far supeiior to the tall, bony, old horse, 
and brown, ragged harness. The whole, however, 
was considered a bargain for five hundred dollars, 
and Mr. Henry would have given more in order to 
leave Haines’s Bluff. 

Mary wished Mr. Henry to use her purse in pay- 
ing for this purchase, but hi laughingly told her he 
would present his account when they had reached 
the end of their journey. 

As the harness and wagon needed repairing, Mr. 
Henry did not leave the bluff till next morning. 

Shortly after daylight they were driving through 
the pine forest that extends for thirty miles 
in the direction of Lake Charles. Mr. Henry was 
seated in front on Mary’s trunk, the two girls occu- 
pied the single seat, and Tom sat with his feet hang- 
ing over the tail-board, clinging on to the sides with 
both hands. The pine roots made the road very 
rough, and as one spring was weaker than the other, 
the wagon leaned to the left with a very rakish look. 
The horse was \ery steady, the fire of his youth had 
21 * 


246 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


evidently departed, and all his pleasure seemed to 
be retrospective. He was a wise horse, for he could 
tell in an instant when any part of the harness broke, 
and would stop immediately ; and this he did, on an 
average, four times an hour, and invariably with 
cause. Mr. Henry anticipated trouble in the harness 
and provided himself with an abundance of buckskin, 
so that its many mendings made it a marvel of inge- 
nuity, and doubtful as to its original material. 

About sunset they reached “Mrs. Williams’s Hotel / 9 
at Manchester, a town which bore but little resem- 
blance to its British namesake, for it boasted but four 
buildings, one the hotel, the other an out-kitchen, 
near which were the stable and blacksmith-shop. All 
the houses were one-storied, and built of rough pine 
logs. 

The young ladies were very much fatigued, and 
Mrs. Williams’s Hotel offered no promise of ease or 
luxury. It was erected for the accommodation of 
the stages, on the principle of giving the smallest 
amount of comfort for the greatest compensation. 
Mrs. Williams was a stout, fleshy woman, very com- 
manding in her manner, and evidently accustomed to 
having her own way. She met Mr. Henry at the door 
of her log caravansary, and informed him that all the 
beds were taken for the night, but she could make it 
comfortable for the young ladies on the gallery, by 
fencing off a portion with a bed-quilt. 

It was the best Mrs. Williams could do in the sleep- 
ing line, but she promised to make up by preparing 
an extraordinary supper. If our party had not been 
hungry after their long, rough journey, the sight of 
Mrs. Williams’s supper table would have disgusted 


SLEEPING “HALF OUT OF DOORS.” 


247 


them, for, though everything was reasonably clean, 
the great piles of fried yams, and islands of bacon 
floating in little seas of liquid fat, with thick corn- 
dodgers and very strong butter, could only be invit- 
ing to those who preferred quantity to quality. 

It was quite novel for the young ladies to sleep 
“ half out doors,” as Tom called the gallery, but the 
beds were luxurious to the weary heads, and Mr. 
Henry having arranged the cots with a blanket cur- 
tain separating the gallery apartments, he got a blan- 
ket for Tom, and early in the evening the whole party 
was asleep. 

Mr. Henry slept less soundly than the young ladies, 
for he rose frequently during the night, and pushing 
back the screen looked at the sleeping girls. Once 
he was aroused by hearing Mary’s voice as if in con- 
versation, with no person replying. He could not 
help listening, as the poor girl, dreaming that her 
journey was over, and that she was with Robert again, 
iold all her woes and hopes. At times Mary’s voice 
sank to a murmur, and low sobs, as if from her aching 
heart, choked her utterance. Heretofore Mr. Henry 
had carefully avoided drawing Mary into a recital of 
the details that led to her journey, but as he heard 
the sad tale from the lips of the unconscious girl the 
tears rose to his eyes, and he stole to the head of the 
cot where the girls were sleeping, and brushing aside 
the screen again, he bowed and touched his lips to the 
brow of each. 

Early next morning the tall horse, equipped in the 
ragged harness, was hitched to the frail, light wagon, 
and the journey was resumed. In the afternoon they 
emerged from the pine woods,' the road leading into 


248 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


the open prairie country which stretched before them 
for two hundred and fifty miles to the banks of the 
Bayou Teche. The prairies were brown and dry, but 
they looked like the grand sweeps about Gonzelletta, 
and Mary felt happier at the sight, while Tom, snuff- 
ing the bracing air that came up from the gulf, rat- 
tled off cotton-field melodies, which, without rhyme 
or reason, were still very pleasant to hear at that 
time. 

At Lake Charles they entered the region settled by 
the lower class of Louisiana French, known in that 
section as “ Cajians,” and in Texas as “French 
greasers,’ ’ in contradistinction to the Mexican greaser. 
This section of the United States and its people are 
but little known, though the latter are the most pecu- 
liar on the continent. They are as ignorant as the 
Indians that once inhabited this section, while they 
do not possess the fierce energy and courage of the 
savage. Not one in a hundred knows anything of 
the English language, and their French patois is in- 
comprehensible to any but those reared in that sec- 
tion. They profess the Catholic religion, and some 
of the settlements are blest with a priest, but books 
and schools are unknown among them. As a rule 
they are very poor, depending altogether on their 
cattle for support, amjl rarely cultivating the fine lands 
on which they are located. During the war they were 
the most impartial conservatives, for as they did not 
understand the cause, and would not be interested if 
they did, they went on branding their cattle, uncaring 
which side won. The Confederates made an effort 
to enforce the conscription in this section, but the 
men so procured, had to be held in the trenches and 


THE CAJIANS— PRAIRIE FIRES. 


249 


ranks by the bayonets of Dick Taylor’s Texans, and so 
worthless were they, that Taylor felt relieved when 
the last of the Cajians had deserted. Physically 
they are miserable specimens of humanity. Small, 
lean, sallow, and cadaverous, they look like the imps 
of the ague demon. At twenty the women are tooth- 
less and shriveled. The homeliness of the females 
in the calcasien region should make it the home of 
at least one of the virtues, but unfortunately for the 
Cajians, virtue never even visits their people in any 
form. Rude people are usually hospitable, but so 
jealous are the Cajians of strangers that they do 
everything to make their stay disagreeable, and they 
have not hesitated to murder Americans who tried to 
settle among them. 

At Lake Charles they found accommodations supe- 
rior to those at Mrs. Williams’s Hotel, and the follow- 
ing morning Mr. Henry had the wagon spring and the 
harness repaired, the blacksmith who did the whole 
job saying the best way to fix the turn-out would be 
to get a new one. From some passengers who came 
in on the stage from New Iberia, Mr. Henry learned 
that the prairies were on fire, and that it would be 
difficult to follow the road at some points. They 
advised him to remain at the lake for a few days till 
the fire had run its course, but he was anxious to push 
on, and consequently left after the blacksmith had 
finished his job. A few miles east of Lake Charles 
a heavy wind began to blow across the prairies, and 
here and there along the horizon columns of white 
smoke, ever changing, marked the line of the prairie 
fires. While Mr. Henry felt no alarm from the fires, 
he still desired to stop early in the afternoon at the 


250 


WARREN OE TEXAS. 


house of a Cajian close to the road, and resume his 
journey across the burning country with ample day- 
light before him. He was met at the door of the 
house by a withered old hag, to whom he made known 
his wish in her own dialect. She promptly refused him, 
and then Mr. Henry told her he would pay any* surn 
which in reason she might ask, but this was unavail- 
ing. The old woman told him he was a conscripting 
officer, and making known her suspicions to her two 
blear-eyed sons, who came out attracted by the con- 
versation, Mr. Henry was forced to beat a hasty re- 
treat to the wagon. There he tried to open negotia- 
tions again for the purchase of some food, and corn 
for the horse, but the blear-eyed young men menac- 
ingly directed him to the next house, six miles further 
on. 

Mr. Henry determined to push on to the next house, 
but he traveled till dark, and still there was no house 
in sight. It was evident the blear-eyed young men 
had lied. 

After dark the wind increased, and the smell of 
the burning prairies was at times suffocating. The 
tall horse could not be induced to go faster than a 
walk at any time ; but even this dignified gait be- 
came gradually slower, and the tall horse showed at 
times a tendency to stop and contemplate. Shortly 
after dark they crossed, or attempted to cross, a miry 
little stream, peculiar to prairie countries. The front 
wheels got through very well, and the hind ones were 
very promising. The pull was hard up the opposite 
bank, and involuntarily all leaned forward, as if to 
help the tall horse with his load Suddenly some- 
thing broke, and the hind wheels slipped lack, while 


IN BIVOUAC. 


251 


the tall horse joyously walked off with the fore ones, 
and Mr. Henry and the two girls were thrown forward 
to the soft ground. Tom clung to the box, till Mr. 
Henry called him to catch the tall horse, who had 
accelerated his movements and was going on with 
the shafts and fore wheels. Fortunately no one was 
hurt ; and while Mr. Henry felt annoyed at the acci- 
dent, he affected to treat it as a joke, and laughingly 
told the girls they must sleep on the prairie. Tom 
returned with the tall horse, and after unharnessing 
him Mr. Henry started a fire, and spreading some 
blankets .on the ground, told the girls to wait till he 
unloaded the wagon and got out the eatables he had 
stored away for just such an occasion. But neither 
of the young ladies would hear of his working alone. 
They helped him to unpack the wagon, and, after 
taking off the box, they gave a hearty pull at the 
rope, which extricated the fated hind wheels. With 
the wheels, box, and a blanket, Mr. Henry rigged up 
a very respectable “ wigwam,’ ’ as he called it, which 
Tom filled with dry grass from the banks of the 
stream. After staking the horse, they partook of 
the cold chicken, biscuit, and mustang wine which 
Mr. Henry’s foresight had provided, and all agreed 
that they were much more comfortable than if they 
had staid at the house of the blear-eyed young men. 

Every one but Tom thought of the difficulty that 
lay before them on the morrow, but the subject, as if 
by mutual consent, was avoided. As they sat in 
their extemporized tent before the fire, Mr. Henry 
gently broached to Mary the question of secession ; 
and laying his hand in a fatherly manner on hers, he 
told her her own story and how he became acquainted 


252 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


with it. He assured her that in this, as in everything 
else, she had all his sympathies, for he was heart and 
soul a Union man. The girls embraced at this dis- 
covery of a new tie between them, and Mary did 
what her heart prompted, she told the story of out- 
rage and wrong which her family had endured, till 
Louisa wept and threw her arms around her friend, 
and Mr. Henry rose excitedly and indulged in a string 
of interjections, some of which were not, to say the 
least, Biblical. Sitting down, he said : 

“ My dear child, you have made my heart very sore. 
Truly, you have suffered much, and I pray that your 
reward may be correspondingly great. I have a large 
plantation and two hundred hands on the Teche, 
but if the whole is necessary to save the Union, I 
say take them. I should not be surprised if the war 
would end in the emancipation of all the slaves South. 
In that event I will go out to Texas and establish a 
ranche, and who knows, my little soldier-girl, but we 
may be neighbors some day.” 

“ Oh, I pray we may, Mr. Henry,” said Mary, earn- 
estly, while Louisa echoed the wish. About 10 
o’clock all were sleeping as calmly as if in their own 
homes, uncaring for the hoarse wind that was hurry- 
ing the terrible fire toward them. Mr. Henry seemed 
to sleep by snatches, for he woke every few hours and 
looked around to see what progress the fire was 
making. About an hour before day he was startled 
by a roaring noise like the sound of a hundred cata- 
racts. He hurriedly told the girls to dress — a by no 
means difficult job — and as they came out from their 
shelter, they saw for twenty miles great waves of fire 
rolling toward them. The sky looked like a mighty 


THROUGH THE FIERY BELT. 


253 


furnace, and the red clouds rolled one upon another, 
as if to quench their burning sides. At fresh points 
the fires would suddenly start up and then speed away 
on their devouring course. Branches of burning grass 
filled the air like a grand pyrotechnic display, and 
as they fell in advance of the main fire they would 
light up the dry grass, and plutonian chariots sped on 
their fiery race before the whip of the wind. The 
party suffered for a while from the stifling smoke, 
which soon passed over, and then came a dry, suffoca- 
ting heat, more oppressive than the smoke. The fire 
would soon be upon them, and Mr. Henry felt more 
alarmed than he dared to express. Below his camp- 
ing place, about a hundred feet, the miry stream 
widened into a broad marsh, where the grass was too 
green to burn, and to the center of this they rapidly 
carried all their effects, including the tall horse. 
They were not too soon ; the fire surged around them 
and the dry air grew hotter. Mr. Henry wet handker- 
chiefs, and making all lie on their faces they breathed 
through the wet cloths, which moistened and cooled 
the air. A few minutes, and every particle of the dry 
grass around them w T as consumed, and the fires had 
swept on. All rose to congratulate one another on 
their fortunate escape from the most fearful of deaths. 
The fire had leaped the stream, and as they turned to 
look at it, it had reached a cluster of pine trees about 
# four hundred yards beyond. But the fire stopped not. 
It licked up the dry leaves and grass around the trees, 
and then gathering at points, as if for a leap, the flames 
shot up the resinous trunks and spread from limb to 
limb and tree to tree. Like mighty torches the trees 
burned, while clouds of black smoke rolled up to the 
22 


254 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


lurid sky. The winds rushed through the burning 
grove, throwing out great streamers of flame that 
straightened and flapped from the tops of the stately 
pines like the banners of the Fire King. 

They watched this sublime spectacle till gradually 
the torches paled, the prairie fires became lines of 
distant smoke, and the lurid clouds blackened, then 
faded before the majesty of the rising sun. 

About a half mile from where they broke down Mr. 
Henry saw a ranche, to which he went, and was fortu- 
nate enough to procure some corn bread and dried 
beef, in addition to a side of raw-hide to fix his wagon. 
After they had eaten of the by no means inviting 
fare, Mr. Henry cut the rawhide into long slips, which 
he moistened and twisted into ropes as strong as iron. 
With these he succeeded in tying the seceded parts 
of the wagon firmly together, remarking to the girls, 
who were watching admiringly : “ The country will be 
united like this after both sides are well co winded.” 

The reader would not have been kept an instan 
on these calcasien prairies if the writer imagined this 
rapid sketch of the “Cajians” to be a matter of 
general knowledge. We will, therefore, pass over 
the long trip of one week to the rich shores of the 
Teche, and leave unrecorded the troubles of Mr. 
Henry with the tall horse, the broken harness, and 
patched-up wagon. 

The Teche region is as level as the prairies and 
heavily timbered. The soil is exceedingly fertile, 
and the banks of the bayou are lined with the finest 
sugar plantations in the South. But a few hours’ 
ride from the gulf, the temperature for that latitude 
is delightful, particularly so in the evenings, which 


STERLING-ON-THE-TECHE. 


255 


are always cool. The dwellings of the planters, 
many of whom are French or of French descent, are 
models of taste and comfort, erected by wealth in 
the hands of cultivated men. And the negro quarters 
would compare in appearance and comfort with the 
dwellings of the majority of northern working-men. 

Mr. Henry’s plantation, with its surroundings, was 
one of the finest on the river, and his house was the 
ideal southern mansion, with its wide galleries, and 
white pillars, and cool approaches of overhanging 
live-oak. The welcome which Mary received at 
“ Sterling,” as Mr. H$nry called his place, could not 
have been excelled in cordial warmth at Gonzelletta. 
There was everything to induce her to remain at 
Sterling for a week at least, but Mary was determined 
to push on. She never for an instant lost sight of 
the one great object that induced her to leave home. 
In two days there was to be a steamer from Grand 
Lake for Vicksburg ; and as it w r ould save the trouble 
of going to Baton Rouge or New Orleans, Mr. Henry 
thought it better to reach the Mississippi by the Bayou 
Atchafalaya, for there would be no change by that 
route. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


t 


ON TIIE ATCHAFALAYA. 

Mary parted from her friends, who accompanied 
her to Grand Lake, with a feeling of sorrow, only 
equaled by the parting at Gonzelletta. She promised 
them to write from Vicksburg, and pledged herself to 
renew the acquaintance on he^return. 

What a wonderful tangle of artificial canals the 
bayous of southern Louisiana make ! Deep and cur- 
rentless, with low banks, which often overflow and 
convert the whole region into a lake, they connect with 
the Mississippi and lied rivers in the most unexpected 
places, and large steamers could, and do, go to the Gulf 
of Mexico by sailing up the Red River, a tributary of 
the Mississippi, which empties into the gulf. One of 
these outlets is the Bayou Atchafalaya, which con- 
nects Red River with Grand Lake, while another bayou 
connects Grand Lake with the salt waters of Berwick’s 
Bay. This lake, with its flowery shores and moss- 
covered cypress trees, bears a striking resemblance to 
Caddo Lake in the northern part of the State. 

The steamer on which Mary obtained passage was 
commodious, and the captain, a friend of Mr. Henry, 
she found very kind and obliging. He promised Mr. 
Henry that he would see Mary safely off for Memphis 
when they reached Vicksburg, so she felt as if her 
immediate troubles were past. And daily she sat on 


AT VICKSBURG. 


257 


deck watching the steamer passing up the sluggish 
bayou, above which, at times, the stately cypress 
trees, with their mossy plumes, bent in graceful 
arches of green, the boughs frequently brushing the 
deck of the steamer. It seemed wonderful to her 
how the pilot knew his course, for the whole region 
was a labyrinth of bayous, and one was so much like 
the other that she could not imagine by what clue 
they were sailing. Occasionally the steamer passed 
a house built on piles, the tops of which showed the 
high-water mark. These houses, with their bilious- 
looking inmates, interested her very much, for they 
reminded her amazingly of the huge sand-hill cranes 
so common in Texas, and which make stupid efforts 
to balance their large bodies on one long, thin leg, 
in a tipsy sort of way, when they desire to be par- 
ticularly comfortable. In answer to her question as 
to how these people lived, the captain told her “ they 
made cypress pews and sold them down the river.” 

The answer mystified her more than ever, but she 
did not trouble the captain by asking what the virtue 
of “ cypress pews” was. Two days, and they reached 
Simsport, near the Red River, where the steamer 
remained for the night, and early next morning the 
mighty Father of Waters was rolling under the pad- 
dles. Northward, past Natchez with its clayey bluffs, 
and Grand Gulf with its fortified hills, the steamer 
sped. Six days from the day Mary left “Sterling,” 
she was in the Washington Hall hotel at Vicksburg, 
from which place she was to start next morning for 
Memphis. The captain had been true to his promise 
and obtained her a nice state-room on a steamer 
sailing the day after their arrival. So far Mary felt 
22 * 


258 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


as if Providence had raised up friends to aid her, and 
as she neared Memphis she felt each revolution of 
the paddles took her nearer to the field of her labors 
and her soldier-brother. The steamboat from Vicks- 
burg to Memphis was crowded, and the captain, 
though very gentlemanly, had too much do on the 
landing of the steamer to pay any particular atten- 
tion to any of his passengers. 

Mary assumed a confidence she did not feel as she 
ordered a carriage through Tom, and drove to a hotel, 
which one of the officers of the boat recommended. 
Ever since she left Texas there was some friendly 
link that connected her with home ; now she felt 
utterly alone. Though her heart fluttered, she was 
not discouraged — she was too close to her journey’s end 
for that. The hotel was filled with southern officers 
resplendent in grey uniforms, decked with gold lace. 
The absorbing topic of conversation seemed to be 
war, and the streets were lined with soldiers. Indeed, 
Mary saw so many passing on the street in one hour 
that she began to question the power of the North to 
conquer so large a number of strong, confident-looking 
men. At supper she sat opposite to a splendid-look- 
ing soldier who wore on his collar the three stars, 
indicative of a colonel’s rank in the Confederate 
army. Without being obtrusive, he paid those little 
well-bred attentions to his fair vis-a-vis which might 
answer for the opening of a conversation where there 
is no introduction. After supper, as she sat alone 
for a few minutes in the parlor, the handsome colonel 
entered, and, glancing over a. paper which he carried 
in his hand, he said, in a tone which might pass for a 
soliloquy or as a remark to Mary ; 


HARRINGTON. 


253 


“ I see our troops have been pretty roughly handled 
in Missouri.” 

To which Mary replied : “ Indeed, sir ! Has there 
been a battle ? ” 

“Yes, miss ; Fremont has been after our boys, and 
it seems from the full report we were worsted. But, 
of course, you heard about the fighting before?” 

“No, sir, I have not, and I must plead in extenua- 
tion of my ignorance of war matters the fact that I 
have been traveling for eighteen days.” 

“You astonish me,” said the colonel looking sur- 
prised, and dropping his paper as he continued : “ I 
trust you will pardon me, miss, but you surely have 
not been traveling in these times eighteen days unac- 
companied? ” 

“ I have my servant, sir, and have been most fortu- 
nate during my journey from Texas in meeting kind 
friends, so that I have never felt wholly alone.” 

“ Might I ask if you are going further than Mem- 
phis? I make the inquiry because I saw you arrive 
in a carriage this evening with only your servant, and 
I should be most happy, if you are unacquainted here, 
to aid you in any way.” 

Mary thanked the colonel, and told him she was 
going to Kentucky, mentioning her uncle’s name. 

“What, Warren, of Jessamine ?” asked the colonel. 

“The same.” 

“ Why, they are old friends of mine. Bussell and 
Allen I know well. Magnificent fellows they are, 
with one of the loveliest of sisters. By the way, you 
must be related to my old class-mate, Bobert W arren ? ” 

“ I am his sister, sir.” 

“What, Bobert Warren’s sister ! Excuse me, but I 


260 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


must take your hand ; my name is Harrington. Robert 
used to call me ‘Black-eyed Susan.* Perhaps you 
may have heard him mention me?” 

Mary assured him that she had often heard Robert 
speak in the kindest manner of his friend of that 
name, and she expressed her delight at meeting.him. 

As other persons had entered the parlor by this 
time, Colonel Harrington led Mary to a retired corner, 
and after they were seated he said : 

‘ ‘ I have heard all about Robert’s troubles, and some 
terrible stories which I could not believe. I know, 
however, that he is a Union man, but this fact does 
not lessen my respect for him, though you see I have 
espoused the cause of the South heart and soul. Now, 
I do not ask your sentiments ; I know what they must 
be under the circumstances.” 

Mary assured him that she was in favor of the Union, 
and briefly related the difficulty that induced Robert 
to leave the State, with the subsequent troubles and 
death of her father, concluding with her own resolve 
to undertake the journey on which she then was. 

The colonel was deeply affected, and assured Mary 
that the treatment that her family was subjected to 
would meet the disapproval of every good southern 
man and soldier. He begged her not to judge the 
cause of the Confederacy by these acts, but to think 
of the terrible sacrifice the southern people were will- 
ing to make for a principle. He deplored the fact 
that his sword was drawn against some of his dearest 
friends, but he valued his love for the South more 
dearly than his life, and consequently it was greater 
than any friendship. He felt that he would not sur- 
vive the war ; though he wap not superstitious, still, 


TROUBLE IN STORE. 


261 


with his convictions of duty, he was willing to lay down 
his life. 

The colonel spoke in a calm tone, without any 
bravado, and Mary could not help admiring the noble 
soldier, though she inwardly hoped there were but few 
such men in the southern army. Alas there were tens 
of thousands of men as brave, intelligent, and patri- 
otic as the gallant Colonel Harrington, who, with a 
devotion worthy the noblest cause for which a sword 
was ever drawn, boldly laid down their lives for what 
they deemed right. 

The colonel told Mary he was glad he had met her 
at that time, as his regiment left on the following 
afternoon for Fort Donelson. He would secure a pass 
from the provost marshal in the morning, and with 
her permission see her safely off in the cars. Mary 
looked the gratitude she could not express as she rose 
to bid the colonel good night. 

About ten the next morning Mary started for Bowl- 
ing Green via Nashville, Colonel Harrington kindly 
escorting her to the depot, and provided her with a 
pass, without which, he informed her, it would be im- 
possible to travel through the country occupied by the 
southern army. So impressed was she with the value 
of the pass that she put it away carefully in her pocket- 
book, while she slipped the railroad ticket inside her 
glove. 

Everything passed off quietly till she approached 
Nashville, when an officer, accompanied by an armed 
guard, entered the car and examined the passes of 
all the passengers. Mary saw him coming and put 
her hand in her pocket for the pocket-book contain- 
ing hers, when, to her horror, she found it gone. She 


2C2 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


searched nervously about her dress and in her satchel, 
but the pass and her pocket-book were gone. By this 
time the officer was waiting by her side, watching her 
excited movements. The search was vain, and she 
stated the circumstances to the lieutenant. He seemed 
inclined to believe her statements, but at the same 
time he informed her that she must leave the cars at 
Nashville and accompany him, with her servant, to 
the office of the provost marshal. A number of gen- 
tlemen in the car, seeing Mary’s agitation, and learn- 
ing about the lost pass, tried to induce the lieutenant 
to let her go on, but he had his orders and was in- 
flexible. Mary, at his request, gave him the check 
for her trunk, which was to have gone on to Bowling 
Green. Fear and mortification, for the time, unnerved 
her, and when she left the car at Nashville, it required 
all her power to keep herself from swooning. The 
officer was at least a kind man, and at the depot he 
ordered a carriage, and placing Mary and her servant 
inside, he directed the driver to take the trunk along 
and drive to the City Hotel, where he must see the 
lady provided with suitable rooms. He told Mary at 
the same time that he would relate her case to the 
provost marshal at once, and he doubted not but she 
could go on by the next train. Unfortunately, it was 
now late in the evening, and the provost marshal had 
left his office and would not be back till the next day. 
His deputy never made a decision without consulting 
his principal, so, after the lieutenant had made his 
report, he was informed that the case could not be 
examined till next day. This was sad news to Mary, 
but she was so conscious of her innocence of any 
wrong, that, as she pondered the whole affair over that 


TOWNSEND AGAIN. 


2fi3 


night, she felt convinced she would be permitted to 
resume her journey in the morning. 

That night the lieutenant, in the kindliest spirit, 
told a group of officers and soldiers of his interesting 
captive, and stated how “it went against the grain to 
compel the lady to leave the train.” In answer to a 
dozen queries as to the lady’s name, and where she 
was from, he answered : 

44 Miss Mary Warren ; she is on her way from Texas 
to Kentucky.” 

44 What ’s her name?” asked an excited nasal voice, 
as a tall, cadaverous-looking man pushed toward the 
lieutenant. The name was repeated for this man’s 
information, who immediately said with an oath : 

“ Hang on ter that gal, lieutenant ; I know her like 
a book. She ’s a straight-out Yankee, and lived nigh 
whar I com ’d from.” 

44 The devil she is !” said the lieutenant, apparently 
annoyed, 44 and who are you, and where clo you come 
from ? ” 

44 Wall, I ain ’t ashamed to answer them ar’ ques- 
tions all night,” said the cadaverous man, edging 
close to the lieutenant. “I belong to the Eighth 
Texas; my name is Henderson Townsend, an’ I come 
from Brazoria County, an’ ain’ t ashamed to own it.” 

This was said in a tone of bravado that found an 
echo in the breasts of many of the bystanders, judging 
from such excited expressions as 4 4 Bully for Texas ! ” 
44 Good for the Bangers ! ” 44 Bon ’t be backed down, 

ole fel ! ” 44 Spit out the hull yarn ! ” 

To “ spit out the whole yarn ” was exactly what 
Townsend desired. After telling the crowd, which 
was constantly increasing, that he had left Texas but 


264 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


a short time before, he related, in his own way, the 
facts already familiar to the reader, making himself 
a conspicuous martyr, and closing by saying : 4 4 If 
that gal ain’t got letters on her that ’ll prove what I 
say, an’ show she is travelin’ fur no good, why, you 
may call me a liar.” 

“Now, that’s far an’ squar.” “No one kin say 
nothin’ agin that,” said a number of men in the crowd, 
while the lieutenant, who was blaming himself for 
not letting Mary go on, though she could not have 
gone far without being subjected to another scrutiny, 
growled out : 

“ Yes, and after the letters are read, if there are 
any, I will still believe there is one damned liar mixed 
up in this affair.” 

Early next morning, the lieutenant called on Mary, 
who grew deathly pale as she heard him recite Town- 
send’s story. As he concluded, he looked into her 
calm, beautiful eyes for an instant, and added : “ I 
need not tell you, Miss Warren, that I do not believe 
this man’s statements. However, the examination 
will be a very short affair. I will walk with you to 
and from the office.” 

Mary thanked the lieutenant for his kind words, and 
left the parlor to make preparations to accompany 
him. She was so weak she could hardly walk up the 
stairs, and as she glanced in the mirror, she was still 
more frightened at the ashy paleness of her own lips 
and face. She staggered to a chair and pressed her 
hand to her forehead as if to ease an intense pain. 
She had no time for tears, and no exciting sympathy 
to make them flow. Whispering, as she clasped her 
hands and raised her eyes to Heaven, “ Oh, thou great 


BEFORE THE PROVOST MARSHAL. 


265 


God, help me!” she adjusted her dress and descended 
the stairs, first telling the frightened Tom to remain 
in the room with her trunk till she came back. 

The provost marshal’s office was on the first floor 
of a high brick building that stood sternly by itself. 
It had no shutters or blinds to its windows, and it re- 
sembled a cold, hard face, without eyebrow;?. From 
a staff in the second story, the barred flag drooped 
oveMhe office door, and it looked particularly awful 
and red that chill November morning. An armed 
guard paced before the door and hugged his gun as 
if it contained some latent heat he wished to squeeze 
out and appropriate to himself. The office was large 
and dreary ; a number of maps hung on the walls, 
with a few coarse lithographs intended to give a 
comical idea of the Yankee retreat from Bull Eun. 
Four clerks sat on high stools before one long desk, 
and at the further end of the room an officer, with a 
grey, stiff head rising above his high-collared coat, 
peered through his spectacles at a parcel of papers 
which he had just taken from the table before him, as 
Mary, with the officer, entered. 

“ Hah ! morning, Lieutenant Cummings,” said the 
officer, glancing up at the lieutenant with his cold, 
blue eyes, and at the same time adjusting his specta- 
cles to scrutinize Mary. 

“ Good morning, Major Kimber. Have you time 
to attend to the case I have brought this morning ? ’ ’ 

The lieutenant spoke in a deferential way, and the 
major put his hand to his mouth and gave two stern 
little coughs, as if considering whether he should be 
offended at the interruption or not. The major had 
been a Middle Tennessee pettifogger, but since the 
23 


266 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


war he was convinced that Providence had set the 
seal of the warrior upon him. His superior officers 
thought differently, and detailed him for his present 
duty. He considered it strictly military to be gruff 
in his questions and abrupt in his replies ; to carry 
his back in and his breast out, which, not having done 
all his life, made the position very hard to assume at . 
fifty-eight. Though the most garrulous bar-room 
tippler before the war, and the most approachable of 
all selfish mortals, he deemed it duty now to make 
every subordinate as miserable as possible, and 
frowned fiercely on every attempt at familiarity. He 
drowned out all complaints against his decisions by 
the word duty, and he needed only a higher field of 
influence to be a first-class tyrant. 

“ Bring your prisoner here ! ” commanded the major, 
placing his hands on the sides of his arm-chair and 
drawing in his legs, as if preparing to spring up and 
devour the pale, timid creature on whom he was glaring. 
The “ prisoner ” having been placed in the immediate 
presence of the august marshal, he seized a pen and 
growled, as he jabbed it into an ink-bottle and drew a 
sheet of paper before him, as if about to sign the 
death-warrant of his bitterest foe, “ State case.” 

Lieutenant Cummings briefly stated the facts con- 
nected with Mary’s detention, and humbly volunteered 
the opinion that her story was true. 

“I judge that. Heard of this case. Simmes ! ” 
addressing one of the young men on a high stool, 
“Call fellow — Townsend — Eighth Texas.” 

Simmes called Townsend, who was posted in a back 
room, awaiting the examination. He came in, hat 
in hand, looking as innocent and moral as such a 


“STALE CASE.” 


267 


scoundrel possibly could. “ Townsend,” said the 
major, glancing fiercely up, “Know young woman, 
Warren?” 

“ I does, very well, sir, I reckon,” said Townsend, 
glancing down at his boots. 

“ State case,” said the major, again jabbing his pen 
into the ink-bottle and assuming a death-warrant aspect. 

Townsend related his knowledge of the Warrens 
in his own way, spoke about the crimes of Robert, 
and the imprisonment of his father, and concluded by 
saying : 

“ Yeh can swar me, ef yeh choose, but though of 
course yeh knows more about them things than I 
does. I 'd say, if yeh do n’ t fine papers in that young 
lady's trunk what 'll prove what I say, why, I think 
I 'd be willin’ ter be shot.” 

“ Good suggestion, very fair. Cummings, have this 
young woman’s trunk brought at once.” 

The lieutenant brought Mary a chair, whispered to 
her “Don't be frightened,” and then left for the 
trunk. In a short time he returned, accompanied by 
Tom, who, faithful to his trust, staid with the trunk, 
and now came in crying. 

“Whose servant? ” asked Major Kimber. 

He was informed that the boy belonged to Miss 
Warren. 

* 4 Boy ! what do you know about this young woman ? ” 
sternly asked the major, glancing at Tom, who stood 
terribly frightened beside Mary’s chair. 

“ Maussee,” replied Tom, “ I does ’nt know nothin’ 
'bout Miss Mary.” 

“ Ought to have known niggers know nothing as 
witnesses. Cummings, have that trunk opened.” 


268 


"WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The lieutenant asked Mary for the key, and opening 
the trunk, beckoned her to his side and said : “ Miss 
Warren, please let me have all your letters, papers, 
and journal, if you keep one. I dislike this business 
of searching your things.” 

Mary walked over, took out a parcel of letters*, and 
her journal, and, handing them to the lieutenant, said : 
“I believe these are the only papers in my posses- 
sion.” 

The letters were principally to Eobert from his 
mother and Amy, and a few to friends in Kentucky. 
Mrs. Warren’s letters detailed all the troubles since 
Eobert left, and they breathed a spirit of such devoted 
patriotism and maternal love, that Major Kimber 
said in the middle of one which he was reading 
aloud : 

“ Enough of that ; so far, good.” He opened Amy’s 
letter, and muttered it over, reading aloud that part 
which spoke of Townsend’s visit to acquaint them 
with Eobert’s death. Indeed, as Amy penned the 
sad words, she was not certain but the newspaper 
report was correct. As Townsend heard this letter, he 
grew livid with rage, and said : “ That part ’s a lie.” 

“ Hold your tongue, sir. All truth or no truth ! ” 
said the major, who evidently enjoyed the description 
of Townsend’s interview with Miss Boardman. After 
this the journal was read. It gave a daily sketch of 
the difficulties and dangers of Mary’s trip so far from 
Texas, and it showed in the entry made at Memphis 
that Colonel Harrington promised to procure her a 
pass next day, and in the note made at Nashville the 
reception of the pass and subsequent troubles were 
"elated. The major deemed the case very serious. 


SENT TO PRISON. 


269 


He felt that Miss Warren, or “the young woman,” 
as he called her, was a dangerous person, carrying 
letters for the enemy and bearing with her a journal 
of very reliable information. “ She must be held,” 
said the major. 

“ How ? ” asked the lieutenant. 

“ In prison,” said the major, 

Poor Mary, she tried to explain. She protested 
her innocence of any intention to do wrong, but she 
was speaking to a heartjess man. 

That night the gloomy walls of the Nashville jail 
hemmed her in, and Tom was taken in charge by the 
provost marshal. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


WARREN, GAINES, AND THE TWO 'JL u.Wlte, 
Robert Warren’s trip to and from Fort Done] son 
was the most successful scout of the war up to that 
time, still he did not like the service and made ap- 
plication to return to his regiment , but without 
success. General Buell decided he was the right 
man in the right place, and induced him to act as a 
scout with General Grant, who, aft ir the battle at 
Fort Donelson, pushed south toward the Tennessee, 
in the direction of Pittsburg Landing. Robert had 
an order for such details as he might require, to be 
filled under his own direction. He had been separated 
from Gaines for some time, and took the advantage 
of his power to have his old friend again by his side. 
Little Ned Dawn, who had completely recovered from 
his wound received near Crab Orchard, was warmly 
attached to Robert. He was a brave, cool-headed 
boy, with a great deal of natural intelligence, and an 
undoubting, childlike faith in the success of the 
Union cause that was very refreshing to those who 
fully appreciated the difficulties under which the 
Union troops fought. His grandfather, though beyond 
the age at which troops were enlisted in the first years 
of the war, was a strong, hearty old man, and the 
best marksman in Allen Warren’s company, which he 
had been permitted to join. During the long marches 


WARREN’S SCOUTING PARTY. 


271 


and severe vidette duty, from Donelson to the Ten- 
nessee, he was ere r at his post, doing his whole duty, 
and the most uncomplaining of men, when others 
showed a disposition to growl. Captain Warren had 
a great deal of respect for the old patriot, and, after 
he had learned his wonderful powers of endurance 
^ and his coolness and good sense in danger, he con- 
sidered him the best man in his squadron. However, 
he was willing to let him go with Little Ned and 
Gaines. These three, with a young Scotchman named 
Aleck Cameron, who had worked as an itinerant watch- 
mender in every part of the State before the war, 
constituted Robert Warren’s command. Robert had 
been busy during the whole campaign, as the Unitm 
forces pushed through the very heart of the secession 
part of Tennessee. The greater part of the time he 
was absent from his company, and now, as every day 
brought Grant and Sidney Johnston closer together, 
he longed to be with the squadron and participate 
in its actions. Stories of immense forces in and 
around the town of Corinth reached the Union Army, 
while the rumor was daily spreading through the 
Union camp that Forrest and Breckinridge were 
closing in from the direction of Bolivar and Memphis. 
Scarce a day passed without the capture of small 
bands of recruits, who were making their way south 
to join Breckinridge, while the roads were crowded 
with fugitives flying with ill-grounded fears before the 
Union advance. 

At this time Robert was not delighted to receive 
an order to scout in the direction of Bolivar, and, if 
possible, to enter the town and ascertain the numbers 
and intention of the enemy. The undertaking, to 


272 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


him, was particularly difficult, as the Texas Rangers 
at that time were in and around Bolivar, and to be 
recognized by any of them would be certain ruin. 
To enter the lines of the enemy is an easy matter at 
any time. The difficulty of getting out should be an 
important consideration in every plan, and in the 
contemplated scout Robert gave it a fitting promi- 
nence. He determined to leave the Union lines in 
the early night and ride from Waynesboro’ northwest 
into Henderson County, a distance of forty miles, and 
then turn south toward Bolivar. The whole distance 
to be traveled was two hundred' and fifty miles, and 
this he hoped to accomplish in one week. Dressed 
as’ citizens, well armed and finely mounted, Robert 
Warren and his four men passed the outer pickets at 
eight o’clock on the night of March 23. It was very 
dark, and a driving sleet from the north beat in their 
faces, and made the gloom and blackness more op- 
pressive. The roads were in a very bad condition, 
and the frequent application of the spur was necessary 
to urge the animals against the biting storm Fre* 
quently during the night Robert dismounted before 
some house near the roadside and inquired the road, 
and the intimation that he was a soldier goingto join 
the forces near Bolivar always secured him the 
desired information. By daylight the scouts reached 
Clayville, in Henderson County, stiff and cold from 
their ride of forty-three miles, and standing much in 
need of the hospitality extended to them by Mr. 
Sweeny, proprietor of the Jackson House at that 
place. There were no soldiers in the town, and the 
news of the arrival of strangers from the outside 
world soon brought all the old men and boys in town 


WITHIN THE ENEMY’S LINES. 


27H 


to the hotel to learn the news. They had had no 
mail for a long time, and the people were despondent, 
for they feared that another reverse like that at Fort 
Donelson would end the Confederacy. 

Robert did the talking for his party, and he caused 
little Ned to look up with wondering eyes as he said 
to an old planter named Chew, to whom he had been 
introduced : 

“No, sir; a dozen defeats like Donelson will not 
ruin our cause. You do your duty at home, and we 
will do ours in the field. We are willing to give our 
lives for our country, You must be willing to give 
up your homes, if need be, to save it.” 

“Very true,” said the old planter, while a fiery- 
looking man, who walked with a crutch and dressed 
very shabbily, said : 

“Them’s my ideas to a dot. If yeh can’t fight, 
why give up everything yeh have ; that ’s what I ’ve 
got to say.” 

The lame man emphasized his views by taking a 
fresh chew of tobacco, and looking at the old planter 
with a stare that seemed to say : “ Now, shell out, old 
skinflint ! ” 

“I am willing to give where my property can be 
used to advantage,” said Mr. Chew, looking coldly 
at the lame man, “but I don’t see the necessity for 
throwing it away in order that I may be as poor as 
my neighbors.” 

“Mr. Chew,” said the lame man savagely, “I sent 
my only boy to fight. You sent no one coz ye’ve 
only got a daughter. Now you ’re rich, I ’m poor ; 
you’ve got seventy niggars to work for yeh, I ain’t 
got none. You voted fur secession, so did I, but I ’v* 


274 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


got to starve or work with this d — d crutch under my 
arm, while you are comfortable, and sleep without 
fearin’ your boy will be killed next fight. I ain’t sorry 
fur what I did, but it looks very much as if I, a poor 
man, was givin’ up all to make you richer an’ save 
your niggars.’ ’ 

“ Do n’t rile so, Tom Oliver,” said the landlord, who 
formed one of the circle that stood about Robert, 
“ If yeh ever want food or anything I have, why come 
after it an I’ll give it yeh.” 

“Yees, an’ yeh’d give it in the same way to Aunt 
Clop, the blind niggar. No, what I wants is to get 
support as a right, not like a beggar. I want this war 
game to be dealt out far. Should I beg, and should 
Mrs. Baker have to take in washin’ jes’ coz I gave up 
my boy, and coz she sent her boy to the war? It ain’t 
far, I be cussed if it is.” 

“Gentlemen,” said Robert after the lame man had 
concluded, “ I am sorry this visit of mine should have 
led to any expression of ill-feeling. This is a time 
for exercising the most generous charity, and making 
the greatest sacrifices. Our friend,” pointing to the 
lame man, “ deserves our respect and support, so does 
the woman of whom he has spoken. Now permit 
me with this one-hundred-dollar bill, in good Confed- 
erate money, to head a subscription for those good 
people, and let every man in your village give what he 
can for the same purpose, and when the sum is ex- 
hausted start a new list, and I will leave another 
hundred dollars with the landlord to head it.” 

These remarks of Robert gave great satisfaction, 
particularly to the lame man, and his generous con- 
duct was imitated on the spot by a dozen men. Invi- 


INTERVIEWING BRECKINRIDGE. 


275 


tations to drink came in from all sides, and Mr. Chew 
pressingly invited him to his house, but Robert, who 
wanted sleep and wished to be in the saddle again 
by the afternoon, thankfully declined, and was per- 
mitted to retire at once. 

By four in the afternoon the scouts were up, and 
their horses saddled. The fame of Robert’s act had 
spread throughout the village, and men, women, and 
children gathered to wish him God-speed on his jour- 
ney, and pray for his safe return from the war. 

The day after their departure from Clayville, the 
scouts began to encounter small bodies of mounted 
men and foraging parties from Bolivar. They learned 
that there were some Texans there, but that the 
greater part of the rangers were at Corinth. It was 
impossible to ascertain the strength of the Confeder- 
ate forces at Bolivar, as he was informed there was 
great activity among them, and the troops were con- 
tinually on the move. 

Robert hit upon his plan and determined to enter 
Bolivar with his companions, and report at once to 
General Breckinridge. About 8 o’clock at night, and 
three days after he had left the Union lines, he was 
at a small tavern in Bolivar, preparing to call on Gen- 
eral Breckinridge. 

The orderly before the general’s headquarters scru- 
tinized closely the large, heavy-set man with short, 
red hair and long, red beard, who wished to see Gen- 
eral Breckinridge. The general was busy with 
Colonel Hanson, and would not like to be disturbed, 
except on official business, so the orderly said. 

“ Now, fren’, you jes’ tell the ginral I come from 
Kaintuck, an’ hev some news fur him, Yankee papers 


£76 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


an’ sich, an’ I reckon he’ll let Sol Burns in. Tell him 
I voted fur him an’ I’ll fight fur him.” So saying, 
Sol Burns walked forward as if he would go in with- 
out any further announcement, but the orderly stepped 
before him, and telling him to wait, he entered the 
general’s room. He returned shortly, and Sol Burns 
was conducted in. There he sat like a soldier prince, 
looking more handsome and lordly than when Robert 
saw him in Lexington. Piles of papers were crowded 
before him on the table, and he was evidently busy 
with some writing. Colonel Hanson was reading, with 
a bottle and pitcher beside him, and two tumblers, 
one of which was moved toward the general. 

The general looked up as he heard the scraping 
sound of Sol Burns’s heavy boots. 

“What do you want with me, my man?” asked the 
general, as Sol advanced with his brown hand extended. 

4 4 1 wants to shake yer ban’, ginral, an’ to give yell 
some news from Kalntuck. Ginral, I ’m Sol Burns, 
from Owen. Yell know me ” 

“Yes, yes, Mr. Burns ; glad to see you,” said the 
general, as he shook hands with Sol, then took up his 
pen and crossed a “t.” 

“Ginral, won’t it be all right to speak right out 
afore this gentleman ?” pointing to Hanson. 

“Oh, yes, perfectly safe. Please be quick, Mr. Burns.” 

“Wall, I will, ginral. Thar’s a lot of Yankee 
papers. Whin I corned through I jis’ friz on to ’em ; 
fur, thinks I, the ginral will like to see how the Yanks 
gin him hell.” 

“Very kind in you, indeed,” said the general, seiz- 
ing the bundle eagerly, and handing some of the 
papers to Colonel Hanson, “ but where did you come 
from, and what do you purpose doing?” 


SOL BURNS TAKES A DRINK. 


277 


“Wall, ginral, me an’ my boy an’ two neighbors 
lef’ home arter the d — d Yankees tuk Donelson. We 
couldn’t stan’ it no longer. We wanted to git tc 
Morgan, but the Yanks kep’ a gittin’ in our road, an’ 
we had to come slap through ’em a few days ago. I 
swar it made my har rise !” 

The general dropped the paper and looked sharply 
at Sol, who drew closer to the table and was toying 
with the neck of the black bottle. The general’s 
face immediately relaxed, and, with a smile, he asked 
Sol if he ever drank. 

“Wall, not much, ginral, but I’d break an oath to 
drink with you.” 

The general told him to help himself, which Sol 
did in the most generous way. After this he told the 
general all he knew about the Yankee forces, and 
the knowledge he had picked up amazed the general, 
for it corroborated in many points information he 
had recently obtained. 

Colonel Hanson proposed to Sol that he and his 
friends should join his regiment, but Sol was deter- 
mined to join Morgan, and begged the general to put 
him on the track. After some further conversation 
the general called an officer from an adjoining room 
and directed him to take care of Burns and his friend. 

“But, ginral,” said Sol, as he was going to the 
door, “ when am I to git off to Morgan ?” 

“ I will see you about it in the morning,” said the 
general. “ Come here about nine, and we will talk it 
all over.” 

Sol promised to do so, and, shaking hands with the 
general and Colonel Hanson, he walked out with 
Lieutenant Mason. The drizzling rain still continued, 
24 


278 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


and the lieutenant did not like the idea of having to 
go to the provost marshal's, and perhaps to the recruit 
camp. Sol appreciated the lieutenant’s position, and 
informed him that he could stay for the night very 
comfortably at the tavern where his friends were. 
Being assured of this the lieutenant returned, refusing 
Sol’s invitation to “come somewhars an’ take suth in’.” 

There was but little sleep for Robert that night. 
He divided the time with reliefs, and kept one of 
the men always on the watch at the stable <to prevent 
the horses being stolen. He carefully thought over 
every point he had gained since leaving the Union 
lines, and wondered as to the course he should pursue 
if General Breckinridge refused to let him hunt up 
Morgan’s command, which was at that time in North- 
eastern Middle Tennessee. 

At half-past eight o’clock Sol Burns, with his hat 
slouched and smoking a corn-cob pipe, passed down 
the street toward General Breckinridge’s headquar- 
ters. He looked like a great, rough backwoodsman, 
and more than one man whom he passed looked back 
and thought “ that red- whiskered chap would be an 
ugly man to handle.” 

Sol Burns waited at the door for the general’s 
arrival, and as he leaned against the hitching-post a 
hand was laid on his shoulder and a familiar voice 
said : 

“ Frien’, give me some of yer fire.” 

Sol Burns did not look up, but for an instant his 
heart stopped beating and a tremor ran through his 
powerful frame. It was the voice of Henderson 
Townsend, made still more certain by the repetition : 

“ Say, frien’, will yeh let me have a light?” 


AN UNWELCOME INTERLOCUTOR. 


279 


Knocking tlie ashes from the corn-cob pipe, Sol 
Burns said, “ Sartin, stranger, sartin and with his 
eyes still cast down he handed the pipe in the direc- 
tion of the voice. 

He heard the puffing incident to a pipe which does 
not draw well, and looking up his fears w ere confirmed. 
There w r as the freckled, cadaverous face of Townsend, 
thinner and more repulsive than ever. 

“Ain't yeh a feelin’ well, frien’ ?” asked Townsend 
as he handed back the pipe. 

“ I ’m feelin’ right smart,” said Sol Burns, still 
looking dow r n. 

“ It ain’t healthy weather somehow now r ,” said 
Townsend. 

“No, not for some constitutions,” said Sol. “1 
suppose, mister, you feel purty sick about these 
times ?” 

“ Wall, yes ; I ain’t just well. I’ve been a ridin’ 
hard, an’ my reegment is alius a fightin’, an’ I got on 
the sick list.” 

“ What is yer reegment, and whar is it now?” asked 
Sol, playing with the handle of a huge revolver, which 
protruded from the holster at his side. 

“ I b ’long ter the Eighth Texas. Some is here, and 
I specs they ’ll mosly be in this evenin’.” 

“Yer kernel’s Wharton, I reckon?” said Sol in an 
inquiring tone. 

“ No ; Wharton ’s major or lieutenant-kernel, don’t 
know which jes’ now. Yeh see I ain’t with ’em much. 
Terry, yeh know, is kernel.” Townsend stopped for 
a second, and continued, “I’m a waitin’ ter see 
Wharton here this mornin\ I lieerd he ’d be along to 
see Gineral Breckinridge.” 


280 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


As Townsend spoke General Breckinridge passed 
in, and, recognizing Sol Burns, he told him to enter, 
which Sol very quickly did. 

“ Burns ,’ 9 said the general, “ I think it will be im- 
possible for you to reach Morgan at present. How- 
ever, I will let you try. You will return if you meet 
the Yankees ; but first find out all you can about 
them. You must go by way of Pittsburg Landing and 
around by Tuscumbia. I will have passes for your- 
self and men. Lieutenant Mason will attend to it. I 
think it best, however, in case you should be captured^ 
that you and your friends should first be mustered into 
the Confederate States service. I will make you a 
sergeant, and give you charge of the party. Come 
here about noon. ,, 

“ Very well, ginral, I ’ll be along and git mustered,” 
said Sol as he walked out. He passed Townsend out- 
side, and resisted that individual’s efforts to draw him 
into conversation. 

Returning to the hotel, he left Little Ned in charge 
of the horses, and giving instructions to the rest they 
walked out and rambled around the town and camp, 
each one taking a different course, and returning to 
the tavern at noon. Gaines was disguised, but as he 
had no control over his voice Robert instructed him 
to speak guardedly, and to see that there were no 
Texan men near should he get into conversation with 
any person. 

At the appointed time Sol Burns reported at Gen- 
eral Breckinridge’s headquarters, and after some delay 
he succeeded in getting in, when he was sent to Lieu- 
tenant Mason’s desk. The lieutenant had a pass al- 
ready signed, and in which he wrote the names of 


TOWNSEND’S FRIGHT. 


281 


Sol Burns and his friends. He gave him the pass, 
and a letter to the mustering officer, and telling him 
to return in the afternoon, as the general wished to 
see him, he motioned him toward the door. As he 
passed out he met Townsend, and not expecting tc 
see him, he looked him directly in the face. And an 
ashy pallor came over Townsend’s face as their eyes met, 
and he staggered against the post with his mouth 
open. Sol Burns saw the change, and, walking up, said, 
“Stranger I reckon yer sickness is wus than it was?” 

“God, ye’ve nearly skeered me out o’ my boots,” 
said Townsend, gasping. “ I reckon my wits is leavin’ 
me. Bentley, who’s jes’ gone ter camp, and I was walkin 
’long, and I seed a fellar I know’d ter be dead. An’ 
jes’ as you corn’d out that ar door I’d a swore yell 
wus a chap named Bob Warren. He’s dead too, sir — 
it makes me sick.” 

“I reckon ye’ve been drinkin’ right smart,” said 
Sol. “ Drink’s bad fur the eyes. Kin you tell me, 
stranger, whar I’ll find Cap’ll Pollock’s office, him as 
swars fellers ?” 

Townsend gave the desired information, and Sol 
Burns sauntered leisurely away. Once he dropped his 
pipe, and stooping to pick it up he looked between his 
legs and saw Townsend gazing after him with the 
greatest earnestness. Turning a corner he quickened 
his gait and hurried to the tavern. He found Gaines 
very much excited and alarmed. He had passed 
Bentley and Townsend, and he heard Townsend repeat 
his name, and make some remark to Bentley. He tried 
to be cool, but they followed him for some distance, 
and he returned to the tavern feeling convinced that 
they watched him. “ We must leave here inside of 
24 * 


282 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


ten minutes. Be calm, Gaines. Ned, saddle your 
horse and mine. Be sure the girths are right. Lead 
the horses to the door and hold them with the bridle- 
reins over their heads till I come.” 

“ All right, sir,” said little Ned, walking to the 
stable, “ I’ll have dem out in ten seconds.” 

Old Dawn and Aleck Cameron returned from theL 
trip quite calm, but the latter was somewhat nervous 
when he heard Robert’s now decided order to saddle 
and mount. 

Robert entered the tavern, before which there was 
a crowd of soldiers, and asked for his bill. While the 
landlord was mentally calculating the amount, he took 
out the pass signed by General Breckinridge, and 
showing it to a tall young man with long hair and a 
broad-brimmed hat, he asked him which was the best 
road to Corinth. 

“ Thar’s only one road, stranger, and that’s about 
as fit to wagon over as cold mush is to make bricks 
of,” said the young man. 

“ I reckon the roads is bad, but I’m agoin’ on horse- 
back. Got orders to go on at once, an’ thar’s no use 
a tryin’ to git out of it,” said Robert, folding the pass 
and putting it in his pocket. 

The young man gave the proper directions. The 
road ran past General Forrest’s headquarters, and con- 
tinued nearly southeast. 

Robert settled the bill, treated every body in the 
bar-room, including the landlord, and mounting with 
his companions, he rode leisurely out of Bolivar. As 
they passed Forrest’s headquarters they saw Colonel 
Wharton and Bentley busy in conversation. Bentley 
was gesticulating with a great deal of emphasis, 


PURSUED. 


283 


while Wharton looked at the ground, stroked his yel- 
low moustache, and nervouly swayed himself back and 
forth on his heels. Robert appeared not to notice 
them, but his presence startled both the men, for they 
suddenly stopped their conversation, and gazed earn- 
estly after the little cavalcade. Still Robert contin- 
ued at a walk, and after they had gone about fifty 
yards beyond where Wharton stood, he whispered to 
little Ned to look back. Ned did so, and reported 
the two men they had passed walking hurriedly in the 
direction of General Breckinridge’s headquarters. It 
was two hundred yards ahead to a turn in the road, 
and over that distance the scouts rode their horses, 
never looking back. Passing the turn, Robert has- 
tily directed the men to look to their arms and see if 
all was right. This done, he asked each man if his 
horse was in good condition, and received an affirma- 
tive reply. 

“ Well, boys, we have a hard ride before us, and 
perhaps a hard fight ; before twenty minutes we will 
be pursued. Keep well together, and remember there 
is a rope awaiting in Bolivar for the man that surren- 
ders.” 

There was no reply to these remarks of Robert, 
but he saw the determined faces, and the shortened 
hold the men took of their bridle-reins. 

“ Follow me !” As Robert said this he struck the 
spurs into the sleek sides of Don, and the noble ani- 
mal flew ahead, and the others followed close at the 
same rapid gait. 

Two miles out they were halted by some pickets, 
and Robert produced the pass which enabled them to 
keep on. For three hours, till the sun began to set 


284 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


over the western line of tall trees, the scouts kept 
on at the same flying rate. As they were rising a 
declivity, little Ned’s horse became perceptibly lame, 
and they discovered that he had cast a shoe some 
time before, judging from the broken condition of his 
hoof. On gaining the crest of the ridge they had a 
view of the Bolivar road for four miles, and as Robert 
turned to look back, he saw a body of galloping 
horsemen standing out like black silhouettes against 
the red western sky. 

“Ned, take the bridle and saddle off your horse, 
quick ! There, chase him into the woods. Throw the 
traps behind that log.” Ned did as Robert directed. 
“Now jump up behind me, quick. Hold on hard.” 
Ned vaulted up lightly behind Robert, and again the 
powerful Don bounded ahead, evidently unconscious 
of the extra weight he carried. It was growing dark 
rapidly. They were a good thirty miles from Bolivar, 
and four ahead of their pursuers, if pursuers they 
were. The road led through a dense wood for about 
two miles, and it was so bad that the horses could 
only struggle along at a brisk walk. Beyond the 
woods the road forked, and Robert unhesitatingly 
wheeled to the left, knowing from the course that it 
led in the direction of the Union Army. For two 
hours the horses staggered through the mire and over 
patches of corduroy that seemed afloat in the fluid 
mud, then suddenly the road terminated, and a broad 
swollen river flowed across the path of the scouts. 
There was no time to lose. Riding a short distance 
up the bank all dismounted, and Robert took the sad- 
dle off Don, and stripping off all his owm clothing he 
buckled his pistol belt around his w aist and mounted. 


CROSSING THE RUBICON. 


28 f> 

“Aleck Cameron, let Ned hold your horse. Go 
back within calling distance on the road, and if you 
hear horsemen advancing call me at once. Gaines, 
let Dawn hold your horse, and come to the river bank 
with your grazing rope, to aid me if necessary. There 
was a ferry here once, I see, so that the chances of 
fording are small, but I T1 try it.” 

The disposition of the little force was quickly made, 
and Robert rode to the water’s edge. Don stooped, 
drank for a few seconds, then showed & disposition to 
withdraw his fine fore limbs from the mud into which 
they were sinking, and go back, but the rider shook 
the bridle, pressed his heels to the hot, sleek sides, 
and Don cautiously waded in. A few yards of mud 
and cold water, then horse and rider sank for a sec- 
ond in the black river, and emerging, the panting 
animal headed for the opposite shore, whose indistinct 
outline seemed miles away. Gradually the white form 
and the puffing sounds of the horse seemed lost down 
the river, where the merciless current was bearing 
them. The men on shore in breathless anxiety 
watched the perilous undertaking, and though dis- 
appointed in the result, it was with a feeling of satis- 
faction they saw the white form nearing the shore 
which he left, two hundred yards further down. 

“We can’t cross here, that’s settled. Come, Ned, let 
your grandfather hold the horses ; walk Don up and 
down as fast as you can while I dress.” 

Robert’s teeth chattered with the severe chilling 
he had just received, but he was not conscious of cold 
or fatigue. All his thoughts were busy considering 
their situation and planning for escape. His fears 
were not personal ; the success of the undertaking, 


286 


BARREN OF TEXAS. 


and tne return to the Union lines with the valuable 
information he had -obtained, were the great incentives 
that moved him. 

Besaddling Don, Aleck Cameron was recalled, and 
Bobert decided to ride down the river. If pursued, 
the enemy had already passed the cross-roads going 
in the direction of Shiloh, or had come in on the one 
they had taken. The latter was the most natural 
inference, as they w r ould be guided at a doubtful point 
by the tracks in the mud. Down the river, over creeks, 
through patches of timber, and across soft, miry fields 
they urged their horses till a grey streak in the east 
told them that day was approaching. Seeing a light 
ahead, and feeling the necessity for feeding their 
horses aud refreshing themselves, the whole party 
rode boldly up, and dismounted before a cluster of 
negro cabins, w here the hands were up and busy with 
their morning meal. In answ er to Bobert’s question 
of “ Who lives here ?” at the door of a cabin, an old 
negro, evidently confused at the sudden appearance 
of the horsemen, said, “Nobody does’ nt lib heah, 
mausser. This is jest a plantation.’ ’ 

“Who owns the plantation?” asked Bobert. 

“ Mausser McIntyre, mausser.” 

“A good Scotch name,” said Aleck Cameron, draw- 
ing near. 

“Where does Mr. McIntyre live?” asked Bobert. 

“ Oh, he ’s done gone to Bolver. Libs dar, ’cept 
sometimes comes dow~n to see how we gits on,” saii 
the old negro, in a more composed tone. 

“ What is your overseer’s name, and where is his 
house ?” asked Bobert , throwing Don’s bridle to Little 
Ned. 


SAMPSON— RELIEF. 


287 


“Be overseer’s name’s Sampson, sail, an he libs 
heah in dis house. I ’s de overseer, mauss.” The 
old negro evidently thought this a joke, for he indulged 
in a chuckling laugh. 

“ Glad to see you, Sampson,” said Robert by way 
of introduction.” Are there many colored overseers 
in this section ?” 

“ Oh yes, mauss ; lots since the wall.” 

“Well, Sampson, myself and friends have been 
riding all night trying to find a crossing in this infernal 
river. What do you call it?” 

“ White Oak Creek, mauss.” 

“ It is certainly a gentle creek. Now, Uncle Samp- 
son , I want to pay you well for whatever help you give me # 
Can you feed our horses and get us something to eat?” 

“ Lor’, mauss, I kin feed de hosses, but we ain’t got 
nothin’ wot white folks ud eat no how,” said Samp- 
son, with a closing chuckle. 

“ What have you to eat ?” 

“ Oh, corn bread an’ bacon, an’ milk. Ben dars 
chickens an’ eggs, but de folks about owns ’em, and 
sets a big price on ’em.” 

“ I don ’t care about the price. Now call out some 
one and have the horses put in a dry place and fed 
and well rubbed. You understand?” 

“Yes, sah.” # 

In a few seconds the jaded horses were divested of 
their equipments, and, under the superintendence of 
Gaines, they were being attended to. In the mean- 
time Sampson called some black people and made a 
requisition for eggs, while the weary scouts carried 
their saddles into the cabin and warmed themselves 
as they rested around the blazing fire. 


288 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The cooking was done in a shanty close by, from 
which came the spattering sound of frying bacon and 
the metallic ring of the hot oven lid. 

Sampson rightly judged the appetites of the hungry 
men by his expedition and the large quantities of 
food he prepared. When the meal of corn-dodgers, 
bacon, eggs, and boiled milk was brought in the old 
negro, who stood watching the men as they ate, seemed 
lost in wonder, and uttered at every huge mouthful, 
“Good Lor’! dat beats ebryting! Neber knowd 
sich ! Ki yi, but dat ar egg jest went quick ! Heckon 
dem gen’lmen wuz neber w r eaned. D^y jest goes fur 
de milk, sartin !” 

Never did men enjoy a meal more than Warren’s 
scouts the breakfast prepared by the negroes, and 
Robert, who knew very well that every particle of it, 
excepting the eggs, came from the weekly allowance 
of the hands, determined to remunerate them well for 
their kindness. 

After breakfast he learned from Sampson that they 
were only forty-five miles from Bolivar, though they 
must have ridden over seventy. They were ten miles 
from the Shiloh road, and about twenty from the 
Tennessee river. Sampson also informed him that 
the plantation was seldom visited, and the nearest 
white people were a mile off. Robert knew the negro 
character thoroughly, and he determined to trust this 
old man, who certainly must be reliable to be en- 
trusted by his master with the care of twenty hands 
and two hundred acres of cotton. 

“ Sampson, are you a secessionist ora Union man?” 
asked Robert, as he lit his pipe and stretched himself 
beside Gaines on the hearth. 


SAMPSON DEFINES IIIS POSITION. 


289 


“ Oh, mauss, I ain’t nothin’, ’cept, praise cle Lor’, 
I ’s a Methodist !” said Sampson, leaning against the 
wide chimney side, and looking earnestly at his ques- 
tioner. 

“And a very good road the Methodists have marked 
out to the better land, Sampson. No corduroys oi 
pontoons, but direct and straight.” 

“Yes, mauss,” interrupted Sampson, in a severely 
religious tone, “but de straight an’ narrer road’s 
filled wud truble an’ kar’, like great rocks, an’ many 
ob de poor sinners gwine home to glory stumble 
an’ fall, an’ git worried an’ come back ; but praise de 
Lor’, mauss, I’ll keep on a few years more, an’ I’ll 
reach de ribber as you did, but de ferry will be dar, an’ 
de new life, an’ frien’s on de odder bank, an’ de Lamb 
who ’ll take de trubbled to His bres’, an’ make all like 
a liddle chile.” 

The conversation had taken a religious turn which 
Robert had not expected, but he was glad of it, for it 
confirmed his previous opinion of the old man. 

“ Do you think the war very wicked, Sampson?” 

“ Wall, mauss, I ’s only a darkey ; do n’t matter 
what I tinks. De Lor of Battles kin only fight on 
one side, an’ when He bares de arm for destruction, 
no man kin stan’.” 

“How would you treat the Yankees if they were to 
come here, Sampson?” 

‘ ‘ Jes’, mauss, as I ’ve treated you ; for de Lor’ says, 
‘As veil ’ve helped de smallest ob dese, so I ’ll stan’ 
by you :’ an’ sometimes we keers fur angels in de 
skies,” (disguise.) 

“ Would it frighten you, Sampson, if I were to tell 
you that myself and friends are Yankees, aud that we 
25 


290 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


have lost our way, and would you aid us to get to the 
Union lines ?” 

Robert sat up as he spoke, and he and his compan- 
ions watched the countenance of the old darkey. He 
evinced but little surprise ; indeed a look of incredu- 
lity gradually spread over his face, and with a forced 
smile, Sampson said : 

“Now, mauss, yeh knows I don’t want to do no 
harm ; I ’s jes’ an’ ole darkey, doin’ all de Lor’ calls 
me to do, neider lookin’ to de right nor de lef’.” 

Robert rose and taking the black man’s hand in his, 
he looked earnestly into his eyes for a few seconds, 
and the mild, dark eyes of the negro met his with the 
confidence of a child. 

“Sampson, I belong to the Union Army; I would 
not deceive you. You know we are the friends of the 
black man. Can I depend on you for aid?” 

Robert did not stop to think as he said “ we are the 
friends of the black man,” for at that very time every 
negro who sought the Union lines, in the hope of free- 
dom, was reshackied by the Union troops, anxious to 
conciliate treason, and handed over to the person who 
claimed to be his master. Sampson knew this, for 
a system of carrying news prevailed among the slaves 
of the South really marvelous when we consider their 
advantages. • 

“ Mausser, de slaves have no frien’ but de Lor’. My 
son, my only chile, ’scaped to de Yankee Armv one 
month ago. His mudder libed on anodder place. His 
mausser went to de Yankee sojers, an’ dey gabe him 
de chile.” Here the tears began to course down the 
old man’s face, and he drew his rough coat-sleeve 
across his eyes. 


A TOUCHING STORY. 


291 


“Well, where is your boy now, Sampson?” asked 
Robert, nervously. 

“ Gone ; gone, mausser, whar de weary head ’s at 
res\ Dey brought Bill back, to make a zample of, 
his mausser said. An’ dey tied him up afore all de 
han’s of all de plantations roun’ fur miles. I wuz dar, 
mausser; I wuz dar, an* his mudder wuz dar — de 
chile’s mudder wuz dar !” 

The old man walked to the little, rude bedstead, 
and bowed his head upon his hands as he sat down, 
while the hot tears flowed through his long fingers. 
No word was spoken for some time, when the old man 
raised his head and continued : 

“Dey whipped him till de blood poured to de 
groun’ ; till he couldn’t cry any mor’, an’ jes’ hung 
by his han’s, wud his head on his shoulder an’ groaned. 
Dey kep’ him dar all day wud de sun a shinin’ on his 
bloody back, an’ no one could gib ’im a drink. Dat 
night dey cut de ropes, an’ Bill fell dead on de groun’ ! 
Mauss, do n’t blame me fur cryin’ ; I ’s ole an’ weak, 
an’ Bill wuz my only boy. I did n’t hab much in de 
worl’ afore ; dar ’s nothin’ now.” 

Every eye was moist as the old man finished his 
story, and little Ned sobbed aloud. The old man no- 
ticed him, and said : 

“ Do n’t fret, honey ; de good Lor* knows what ’s 
bes’ fur dose He lubs. I ’se willin’ ; I ’se willin’, what- 
ever come.” 

Robert was busy for some minutes with his own 
thoughts. The whole hideousness of slavery dawned 
on his mind as never before, and when again he spoke 
it was with the resolve to add freedom to Union in 
the motives that led him to battle. 


292 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ Sampson, my heart is very sad at your story, but 
your shackles will be melted in the furnace of this 
terrible war. Wait, God is directing us.” 

“Yes, mausser, I ’s willin’ to wait, trustin’ in de 
Lor’. An’ now, mauss, anything I kin do fur yeh dat 
won’t harm Mauss McIntyre, I ’ll do.” 

“ I am obliged to you, Sampson. I want you to let 
me stay here, or some place near here, where our 
horses can rest till the evening, and then send a man 
who can guide us to the Tennessee or to some point 
where I can cross this river.” 

“Mausser, yeh kin all res’ here, I reckon, till de 
night. I ’s got a boat about two miles down de crik. 
We kin put all de tings in dat an’ swim de hosses.” 

“Just the thing, Sampson ; I do n’t like rafts. You 
are sure we are safe here?” 

“Sartin, shuah, mauss.” 

“ Very well ; I will keep a guard up to look out for 
danger, and I want you to tell me if any white man 
approaches.” 

“I will, mauss ; an’ now I hope yeh kin res’, an’ dat 
de Lor’ will guard yeh.” 

Robert stood guard first while the others slept, and 
Sampson went to the fields. 

Though one of the scouts was kept continually 
on guard during the day, the whole party had a 
good rest by five in the afternoon. Sampson had 
shown more interest in this guard duty than could 
have been expected, for in the early morning he sent 
out two men some miles from the place, one up the 
creek and the other out toward the Shiloh road, to 
report the advance of any white men. Shortly after 
five the black man stationed up the creek came run- 


“DE LOR’ OB ISRAEL WATCH YEH!” 


233 


ning back, breathless with fear and fatigue. He re- 
ported ten horsemen, all armed, coming toward the 
plantation. Sampson was on hand in a moment, and 
the horses were saddled. Robert in the mean time 
forced a fifty-dollar United States note into the reluct- 
ant hand of the old man. 

“ I do not want to get you into trouble, Sampson ; 
but where can I find that boat, if I need it?” asked 
Robert. 

Sampson quickly described its location, and gave 
him the key that unlocked it. 

“ Now, Sampson, I am off. God bless you ! De- 
tain those men, whoever they may be, as long as you 
can. If I find the boat, and get a half hour’s start, 
I will laugh at the rebels.” 

“ May de Lor’ ob Israel watch yeh, mauss !” said 
Sampson as the scouts mounted. Then, seeing little 
Ned leaping up behind Robert, he continued : “ ’Fore 
Heaven, I ’d like to git a hoss fur dat chile, but I ’ve 
only got mules.” 

“ Thank you, Uncle Sampson, mules are two slow. 
This horse can carry us,” said Robert, as he patted 
the arched neck of the noble Don. “ And, now, good- 
bye. I will never forget you !” 

A repetition of the direction, and a promise from 
Sampson to meet them at the boat, in case they wt.re 
not across, shortly after dark, and the scouts rode 
down the river. 

There was no chance to cover up tracks, and no 
course but the bold one of getting to the boat and 
crossing before their pursuers were upon them. The 
horses were fresh, and they passed out of sight of 
McIntyre’s plantation and down the river road, or 
25 * 


^ a'TTtzuN OF TEXAb. 


394 

rather trail- foi it was an irregular bridle-path — in less 
time than it takes to write. A mile down the river 
and the path made a detour to the right, but Eobert 
deemed it wisest to keep to the river’s bank till they 
found the boat About a half mile down the creek 
they came upon a broad, partially-flooded swamp.' 
They had to ride around it, and in doing so they 
struck the bridle-path again. That detour cost them 
fifteen minutes, but they tried to make it up by in- 
creasing the speed of the already flying animals. They 
passed a plantation and the hands coming in from 
work stopped to gaze in wonder at the excited horse- 
men. Beyond the plantation Eobert recognized the 
clump of trees below which Sampson told him the 
boat was fastened. Already he began to feel safe, 
and, dashing to the river’s bank, there was the boat. 

“ Dismount quick, Gaines ; take your rifle and start 
back to the timber, where you can see any approach. 
You will know Bentley or that crowd. Fire a pistol if 
they approach. I will fire one to call you back.” 

Gaines sprang from his horse, and with a pale, de- 
termined face ran back to the woods. 

“Now, unsaddle, men, while I get this boat loose.” 
As Eobert spoke he searched for the key, and at the 
same time hurried to the frail boat. First one pocket, 
then another. There was no key. 

“Pile in the saddles while I break this lock.” 
Eobert looked around for a stone, but saw none. He 
seized a heavy stick, and as he raised it to break the 
staple the crack of Gaines’s rifle was heard, followed 
by a wild yell, which Eobert too well knew. 

“ Dawn, Aleck — your rifles ; folio w me ! Ned, fas- 
ten the horses, then come on ! ” 


A FIERCE ENCOUNTER. 


295 


Robert spoke rapidly, but acted still quicker. With 
the light, quick bound of an Indian he rushed into 
the woods, where Gaines stood capping his rifle. He 
had not fired in vain, for as the four men met a rider- 
less horse dashed past them. 

“ Bentley and his gang !” said Gaines. ‘ 4 1 see them. 
They ha *e halted. Keep under cover of the tree, and 
fire coolly every chance.” 

The pursuers were checked for an instant, then they 
quickly rallied, and. with pistols cocked, nine horse- 
men dashed into the wood. Close up within one hun- 
dred yards and not a shot was fired ; within fifty yards, 
and the horseman in advance checked up for a moment 
and fired his pistol at Ned, who was in full sight, ad- 
vancing. It was a fatal move, for five rifles blazed in 
c n instant, and the first horse tumbled to the ground 
and the rider sprang from the animal to see three of 
his companions stretched on the earth. 

“Now, boys!” shouted Bentley — for he it was — 
“ we ’ve got ’em. Hurrah !” Ahd he dashed ahead, 
followed by his mounted comrades. 

The scouts had not time to reload their rifles, but 
drew their pistols and, springing from their cover, 
fired at the Texans, who vere upon them. Gaines 
was but a few feet from Bentley when both men fired f 
then with the fierceness of tiger-cats they sprang upon 
each other with drawn knives. Gaines slipped and 
went down, but little Ned saw it, and with a powerful 
blow from hs clubbed rifle Bentley was brought to the 
ground. The remaining Texans hurriedly sprang be- 
hind the trees, having dismounted ; and Warren, 
leaving the wounded Gaines on the ground, sought a 
like shelter in the direction of the horses. But now 


206 


WARREN 01 TEXAS. 


a new danger assailed them. Four men, with savage 
yells, came rui ning in from the left of the woods. 
R ibert turned to look at the enemy’s re-enforcement, 
when to his astonishment and delight he saw the leadi r, 
a powerful man, stopping and deliberately firing on the 
Texans. His companions were about to follow his 
example, when the Texans called out, “We surren- 
der ! we surrender !” 

“By the ghost of Ginral Jackson, it’s better for 
you,” said the large man, advancing. “ Drop them 
guns ! Off with them pistols ! All right,” he con- 
tinued as the Texans obeyed. 

Robert with his companions was still under cover, 
and thinking this might be a dodge, he waited. There 
was something in the voice of the large man that 
sounded familiar. He peered around the tree cau- 
tiously again, then drew up, and, in a voice that rang 
through the woods like a trumpet call, he shouted : 

“Hurrah for the Union and General Jackson !” 

“ Hurrah for the Union and Gineral Jackson !” 
shouted the large man, as Robert leaped from behind 
the tree to see approaching him his old friend Ten- 
nessee. 

“ Guard the prisoners !” shouted Robert to his com- 
panions, and the next instant the powerful arms of 
Tennessee were around him. 

“Yer a livin’ yet — ain’t a ghost? Oh, Lor’, but 
this is grand. Oh, I ’m willin’ ter go under sod now 
any minute ! Yer sure yer alive?” said Tennessee, 
again feeling Robert’s by no means delicate arms. 

“ Alive and well, thank God, Tennessee, and you 
are ever my guardian angel. But our friend is 
wounded ; let us help him, then talk.” 


A VICTORY AND A SURPRISE. 


297 


They hurried over to Gaines, who was stunned by a 
pistol ball that struck him above the right eye, and 
glancing passed through the fleshy part of his ear. 

“Look up, ole fel,” said Tennessee, taking the 
wounded man’s head in his lap and pouring water over 
the scar from the canteen. “ Yeh ain’t hurt danger- 
ous, though the cut won’t improve yer beauty.” 

Gaines soon recovered and gazed up wonderingly 
into the bronzed, yellow-bearded face that looked down 
on him so kindly. 

“Yes, it ’s me — Tennessee — ole fel. The same what 
left yeh ter die on the island. I ’ll tell yeh all bime-by.” 

As Tennessee spoke Gaines rose, and feeling his 
wounded head, he stared again at Tennessee, then at 
Robert, his companions, the Texans, and the three 
new arrivals. 

“Robert, am I in my right mind? Is this Tennes- 
see ? Are we safe ?” asked Gaines, in laughable surprise. 

“Yes, Andy, we are safe, and there stands our 
friend Tennessee,” said Robert. 

Gaines was not demonstrative, but he threw his arms 
about Tennessee and said : 

“Oh, my old friend, thank God, you are well and 
here ; forgive me for ever having doubted you.” 

“We’ll talk all that*arter awhile. Now, let ’s see 
these here wounded chaps.” 

Giving directions to Aleck and Ned to secure all 
the horses, and to the old man, who was ns cool as 
the bravest during the flght, to bathe Gaines’s head 
and bind it up, Robert and Tennessee started in the 
direction of the prostrate Texans. Reaching Bentley, 
Tennessee stooped, put his ear to the bleeding man’s 
breast, and rising, said : 


298 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“He ’s a livin’, Mr. Warren. I do n’t wish him ter 
die, fur if it wuz n’t fur him I would n’t be here. Here, 
Arkansas — yer Ingin nation — take this chap ter the 
river an’ wash his wounds ; we ’ll be down thar di- 
rectly. Long Sam, make them pris’ners stan’ in a 
pile, an’ shoot the fust one budges.” 

Tennessee seemed by some right to have assumed 
command. His men promptly obeyed, while he and 
Warren examined the men lying on the ground. The 
unerring rifles of the scouts had done their work. 
Three men lay dead beside the still struggling horse, 
and near the farther edge of the woods, with a red 
hole in his forehead, from which the blood slowly 
trickled, they found the man on whom Gaines had 
fired the alarm shot. While they were standing above 
the body, an elderly man, very pale and very much 
excited, appeared on the ground, and in an authorita- 
tive tone asked : 

“ Gentlemen, what is this fuss? What does all this 
shooting mean?” 

“It means death,” said Tennessee, pointing to the 
dead Texans. 

“ My God, gentlemen, you have not surely been kill- 
ing your friends, the southern soldiers ?” 

“No, sir,” said Robert, looking the old planter in 
the eye. “We have been fighting our enemies. We 
are northern soldiers.” 

“Yes,” added Tennessee, as he noticed the old 
man’s alarmed face ; “we fights fur the Union. Come 
with me a moment.” 

The planter obeyed mechanically till lie reached 
the group of prisoners. “Thar, stan’ thar. Long 
Sam, do n’t let this man move.” 


LONG SAM’S WARNING. 2<J? 

“Yell kin bet yer bottom rock I'll make movin' 
bad work if this ole brick tries it on/’ said Long Sam, 
stepping back a pace, the better to cover his prisoners. 

Robert called Aleck Cameron and placed him on 
guard with Long Sam. Then he and Tennessee went 
to the river. Gaines was walking about with his head 
bandaged in a yellow handkerchief, like a faded hos- 
pital flag, and Bentley began to show evidences of an- 
imation. Robert gave him some brandy from a pocket 
flask he carried, which had the effect of reviving him, 
for he groaned, opened his eyes, looking around upon 
the people who stood near him, then closed them again. 

It was now nearly dark, and after a short consulta- 
tion it was decided to cross the river with the prison- 
ers that night, and mature a plan of action after get- 
ting over. One of the best horses of those captured 
was selected for little Ned — Gaines, who had seen 
the boy’s heroic action, declaring that after the war 
he would make him a present of a whole corral of 
mustangs, and four more reserved for Tennessee and 
his friends. The arms, saddles, and bridles of the 
Texans not needed were then placed in the boat, the 
chain of which had been broken, and Aleck Cameron 
and Arkansas scattered them about in the creek. At 
this juncture the faithful Sampson appeared, and Rob- 
ert took him aside and hurriedly explained the state 
of affairs. He told him he would need the boat that 
night, and might have to sink it, and, in anticipation 
of this, he paid Sampson. He also directed him to 
have the negroes on the plantation near by bury the 
dead in the morning. This Sampson promised, and 
invoking blessings on Robert’s head the old man re- 
turned. 


300 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


All the saddles were ferried over, and then the 
horses taken one at a time. The prisoners were crossed 
two at a time, with two of the scouts, one rowing, the 
other guarding. The old planter raved and expostu- 
lated till Long Sam intimated that they invariably 
scalped men for carrying on in that ridiculous way 
where he came from, and that in order to keep in his 
hand he would raise the old gentleman’s hair on the 
slightest provocation. This had a soothing effect on 
the planter. 

Back some distance from the wooded bank of the 
river to which they had crossed, they built a fire, and 
placed near it on their saddle blankets the wounded 
Bentley. The blow on his head was severe, but not 
dangerous ; there was, however, a pistol-ball in his 
right breast, close to the heart, and Tennessee shook 
his head when he saw it, while Bobert, who understood 
the anatomy about the wound, felt that but a few 
hours remained for the brave, misguided Texan. 
Robert’s force now consisting of nine men, he divided 
it into four reliefs for guard duty, Ned and his grand- 
father going on first. 

As they sat by the fire on the opposite side to the 
prisoners, Robert and Gaines begged Tennessee to 
tell them his story, and how he came to be on hand 
so opportunely that day. But he insisted first on 
hearing their’s, and so Robert described the storm, 
and the flood, and subsequent escape. Tennessee sat 
with his hands to his face, saying at times, “It seems 
like a dream, or a yarn, or something.” Robert nar- 
rated every incident till their meeting that evening, 
after which Tennessee insisted on shaking hands 
again. 


TENNESSEE’S NARRATIVE. SOI 

By this time little Ned and the old man were re- 
lieved, and Robert introduced them regularly to Ten- 
nessee, and asked them to come and hear his story. 
Long Sam and Indian Nation stood guard, and Tennes- 
see, taking a huge chew of tobacco as a suitable prelimi- 
nary to his narrative, related in detail the incidents 
already known to the reader up to the evening of his 
escape. While Tennessee spoke old Dawn’s eyes were 
fastened on him with an intense and wholly unusual 
expression. With the utmost earnestness he heard 
him tell of his successful escape from prison, though 
a companion was killed in the attempt ; of his journey 
into the Cherokee country and remaining there till he 
had to fight on one side or the other ; how he left, and 
with Indian Nation, who was a Union man — he did n’t 
know his regular name — went to Arkansas, and had to 
join the rebel army ; how he met Long Sam and 
Arkansas in Price’s army, and how they all deserted 
to Tennessee, where they hoped to find the Union 
army ; how at Memphis he enlisted with his com- 
panions in a regiment which was in East Tennessee, 
and how the rebels gave him transportation there. 
Finally how he stopped at Bolivar, though out of his 
way, under the pretense of seeing a brother, who 
did n’t live there, and how he recognized Bentley in 
the street as a man who sent Rose after Robert War- 
ren. “ I longed to go fur that feller, though he’s help- 
less now,” concluded Tennessee. “I saw him awful 
worried in town, an’ arter a while a whole gang, more 
than twenty, started out of town on the Shiloh road. 
I knowed thar wuz no Yankees out thar, but some 
trubble, an’ I couldn’t git over follerin ’em. We all 
four started, an’ of course the critters left us away 
26 


302 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


behind. We dodged the pickets an’ got on the trail 
One by one the critters gin out, but we’ve all chased 
Ingins, an’ yeh couldn’t git us off the trail more ’n a 
bloodhound. We coin’d up with them fellers this 
mornin’. They just tried the Shiloh road ten miles. 
They ain’t much on a trail. We waited at the cross- 
roads, knowin’ they ’d come back, an’ when they did 
we wuz arter ’em. I know’d more an’ more thar wuz 
some one I’d orter help if I follered them men. Fine 
critters they have, tlio’ played I reckon. Wall, yeh 
know, I cum’d up duriiT the fight, an* when I heerd 
yeh, I forgot the journey an’ the hunger. An’ now, Cap., 
we ’re lieah safe an’ sound.” 

“Yes, Tennessee, and hungry,” said Robert, open- 
ing his saddle-bags and handing out the plentiful 
supply of provisions which the generous and thought- 
ful Sampson had stuffed into the saddle-bags at the last 
moment. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


FATHER AND SON. 

During Tennessee’s narrative old Dawn gradually 
drew nearer to the speaker, and his face assumed by 
degrees an intense earnestness and interest that even 
the thrilling story would not warrant. In truth, he 
did not hear the story, though the strong, deep voice 
thrilled the old man like the airs of his youth just 
called to mind, and with wondering eyes he gazed 
from the fire to the powerful, flexible form of the hun- 
ter, as if trying to reconcile some changes, or solve 
some mystery that troubled his own mind. 

Tennessee stopped speaking, and after going to 
where Bentley lay, and making some changes in his 
position to ease his pain, he walked back, and, pulling 
out his tobacco-pouch as he sat down, he said to the 
old man : 

“ Smoke with me, frien’ ? It ’s no pleasure to smoke 
alone by a camp-fire. ,, 

“ Sartin, stranger, sartin,” said the old man, looking 
earnestly into the good-natured blue eyes of Tennes- 
see, and mechanically reaching out his hand for the 
tobacco. 

“ Stranger,” again the old man spoke, after light- 
ing his pipe, “ yeh ’ve lived in Texas right smart, I 
reckon ?” 


304 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“Yes, ole man ; I’ve been thar purty much since 
I wuz a boy, an’ I knows ’bout as much of that ar* 
country as mos’ men.” 

“Yeh knows lots of folks thar, I’m sure?” and as 
the old man spoke he edged closer to where Tennes- 
see sat. 

“ No, frien’, I ain’t much at gittin’ ’quainted ; but 
I knows a few, I reckon,” said Tennessee, blowing out 
a cloud of smoke and good-naturedly preparing him- 
self to answer the old man’s questions as long as he 
wished to ask them. 

The old man sat looking at the fire for some time. 
His pipe had gone out and was held between his 
clasped hands. After a few minutes, without looking 
up, he began, as if speaking to himself; 

“ Stranger, I had a boy once — my eldest — and a 
long time ago he went to Texas. It hurt me a heap 
to have him leave me, for he wuz right smart help, 
an’ they did n’t git up boys with any kinder or braver 
hearts than mine. But I let him go, fur I had others 
a cornin’ on, an’ I know’d my boy ’d come back if he 
ever larned I wuz pushed. Wall, the war come, an’ 
the rebels killed all but little Ned; he ’s Ned’s boy. 
It ’s right hard fur an old man, but of late I keep 
thinkin’ that Sim ’ll turn up. It ’d take off all the 
load if I could see Jim agin.” 

The old man looked up. Tennessee was standing 
beside him. He met the old man’s gaze, and his heart 
leaped to his mouth. A haze came over his eyes as 
with outstretched arms he knelt beside his father, and 
clasping him to his broad breast he said, in a low, 
tremulous voice : 

“Look at me, dad ; I ’m Jim. I ’m yer boy.” 


AN IMPRESSIVE REUNION. 


306 


The old man pushed back the heavy masses of sun- 
burned, fair hair from Tennessee’s white forehead and 
said : 

“ Thank God for this, Jim. Thank God thar ’s one 
left besides little Ned. My heart felt warm fur yeh 
from the first, an’ I hoped yeh wuz my boy.” 

The father and son sat down together, and the wit- 
nesses of their meeting felt the joy they could not 
then speak. Tennessee pulled little Ned over on his 
knee, and looking into his bright, youthful face, said : 

“ So, you ’re Ned’s boy. Wall, now, who ’d ’a thought 
it? My face was as smooth as yours whin I left Ten- 
nessee, an’ I reckon I looked right smart as you do. 
I wuz n’t bad lookin’ then by a long chalk — was I, 
dad?” 

“No, Jim, you wuz allers likely,” said the old man, 
looking with pride at the bearded face of his giant 
boy. 

“Mr. Warren, the Dawns is purty heavy for Ginral 
Jackson, do n’t yeh think?” 

“ I certainly do, Tennessee,” replied Robert, who 
went on to relate how he met his father and little Ned 
that dark night near Crab Orchard, and how the boy 
was wounded. 

“ Wall, it ’s all right now. But this war has brought 
some things roun’ cur’us. ’Pears like a dream since I 
follered yeh out the Shreveport road with that houn’, 
Rose.” 

As Tennessee spoke, Gaines ordered the next de- 
tail for guard, and the old man insisted on going on 
again with Tennessee, offering as an excuse that he 
would “feel kinder lonesome ef he wuz n’t near Jim.” 

The night wore on, and Bentley sank into a quiet 
26 * 


306 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


sleep About four o’clock he roused himself, and 
looking up at Robert, who was sitting beside him, he 
asked : 

“Have I been dreaming, Bob? Have I said any- 
thing?” 

“No; I have been sitting here, and you 'slept 
quietly.” 

“ Bob, I ’ve led a pretty wild life. It’s nearly 
ended though,” and Bentley laid his hand on the 
wound, from which the blood still slowly oozed 
through the bandages. 

“ I have no reason to love you, Bentley ; but I 
believe you brave and honest, and I hope you will 
live to return to your people, and, after the war, to 
Texas.” 

Robert stooped and wiped the wounded man’s 
damp forehead and gave him another sip of brandy. 

“ Bob, I can ’t live, and before I die I want to tell 
you all. I want to tell you that I objected to keep- 
ing your father in prison, and it hurt me worse than 
this wound when he died.” 

“My God! my father dead! Bid you say my 
father was dead?” said Robert, in a voice of agony 
and passion, as he laid his hand on the wounded man 
and shook him for a reply. 

Bentley did not reply. He made an effort as if to 
speak, then his face grew deathly pale, and a thin, 
bloody foam gathered about his lips. He had fainted. 

Robert was half prepared for this terrible informa- 
tion, still it cut him to the heart. Tennessee hastened 
to his side, and placing his ear to Bentley’s heart, he 
said hurriedly, “Give him more brandy, Mr. Warren, 
E ’m afeard he ’s dyin’ !” 


ROBERT’S LOSS. 


807 


Robert raised Bentley’s head, stooping so as to 
take it in his lap, and poured the brandy slowly be- 
tween his cold, bloody lips. 

Tennessee in the meantime tightened the bandages 
and stopped the blood. 

“Yeh musn’t rile this chap, Mr. Warren; he’s 
purty near gone. Ef he was n’t as strong as a hoss 
he ’d a died when he was fust hit. Thar, he ’s coinin’ 
to. Let him rest a bit.” 

Robert adjusted the blankets and walked away. It 
was very dark, and the prisoners near the fire slept 
like children, little Ned lying with his arm thrown 
over one stalwart fellow’s breast. 

“ Oh, God ! this agony ; this war is horrible !” said 
Robert, as he buttoned closer his coat and walked 
into the darkness, where the dying fire at times lit up 
the great, leafless trees and threw out shadows that 
were lost in the blackness beyond. As he stood 
musing Gaines came up and said : 

“ Robert, I am sorry to hear of your trouble.” 

“ I know you are, Andy, I know you are,” and 
Robert laid his hand kindly on the shoulder of his 
friend. 

“ This is no place nor time, Robert, to give way to 
grief. Sometimes I have been so dejected that I 
envied those who slept in the grave without heart- 
aches. But God has given us work to do. Let us 
bear manfully every trial He casts upon us.” 

“ You are right, Andy ; but I could not help this 
sadness. You know how intensely I loved my father, 
and how, during our arduous duties, I have looked 
forward to the time when I could tell him all, as we 
sat together in the old home, and war with us was a 


308 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


thing of the past. But I will bear it. Come, let us 
see poor Bentley ; I fear he cannot live long.” 

They walked back to where Bentley lay, and sat 
down beside him. He turned at the noise and whis- 
pered, as he tried to hold out his hand : 

“ Bob, do you hate me ?” 

“No, God know T s I do not. I would suffer much 
to give you life,” said Robert earnestly, as he took 
the cold and once powerful hand in his. 

“ Bob — and you, Andy — I want you to forgive me. 
I judged you wrong. I know now, what I thought 
then, Townsend lied.” 

Bentley stopped, for the talking pained him. 

“ I forgive you, from my soul, for whatever you 
have done to me,” said Gaines, in a choking voice. 

“ And I too, Bentley,” said Robert. “ I never 
could think you guilty of an intentional meanness. 
You were always too brave and honest.” 

“Yes,” interrupted Bentley, with failing breath, “God 
knows I am honest, Bob, and always meant to do right.” 

“ You knew me, Bentley, and you knew Townsend. 
I am sure it was only the excitement of the election 
that induced you to think that I could be a murderer 
or a robber.” 

“ Yes, Bob, but the excitement ’s past. I am going 
down. I can hear the water. The river is close at 
hand, and I *m moving out.” 

Bentley closed his eyes and lay still for a few mo- 
ments. Then he roused himself as with an effort. 

“ Bob, call my men — all that are left.” 

Robert woke up the prisoners and brought them 
over to where Bentley lay. He motioned them to 
stoop, then shook hands with each. 


DEATH OF BENTLEY. 


309 


“ Boys, you ’ve always done your duty. I hope 
you ’ll get back to do it again. I ’ve fought with you 
for the last time, but God will give victory to the 
right. You are prisoners. If Bob Warren lets you 
go, do what he may ask ; it will be for your good and 
his. Take my last love to all.” 

Those bronzed Texans were unused to emotion. 
They looked too strong anc^ coarse to be capable of 
much feeling, but as Bentley ceased speaking their 
eyes were moist with the tears they could not choke 
down, and each clasped the cold hand of the com- 
mander th^y loved, promising to obey his last order. 

44 Is the sun up? It feels warmer.” 

44 No, Bentley, but the day is breaking,” said Robert. 

44 Yes, I see the light, the light, and my mother, 
my mother, my mother ” 

His voice gradually sank, and at the last word, 
“mother,” his clasp of Robert’s hand relaxed, the 
dying fire in his eyes went out, his head fell back, 
and Bentley, the b v rave and misguided, was dead. 

The sun came up bright and warm. The early 
spring birds flew through the budding trees, and at 
times a bee buzzed by in search of the first sweet 
flowers. A large live oak, with branches drooping to 
the ground, grew near the camp, beside the river. 
Here they scooped a grave with their knives deep 
between the gnarled roots, and, wrapping the young 
Texan in his blanket, they lowered him down and 
placed his sword and pislols on his breast. Then they 
threw back the earth, while Robert carved in the 
bark, 44 Bentley, bravest of the Rangers, killed March, 
1862 .” 

“ Saddle up your horses, men, we must start at 


310 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


once,” said - Robert, walking in the direction of the 
prisoners. “I will find it difficult to take you through 
to the Union lines with me, and still more difficult to 
let you go,” said Robert, addressing the Rangers. 
“ You promised Bentley just before he died that you 
would do as I desired for your own good. Do ‘you 
still stand by that promise ?’ ’ 

The Texans signified tl^eir willingness to do what- 
ever Robert desired consistent with their duty as 
Confederates. 

“ I am satisfied with your promise. I will parole 
you at once, on condition that you do not report to 
the Confederate army inside of twenty-four hours. 
This I must demand in order to prevent pursuit. 
What say you ?” 

The Texans agreed to this, and Robert prepared 
and took each man’s parole. 

“ t wish you to take this note to Colonel Wharton 
for me ; it will explain all about your capture and 
Bentley’s death, I have given you the credit which 
as brave men you deserve. Now, good-bye, and [ 
hope when again we meet it may be as friends.” 

The prisoners shook hands all round with their 
captors, and as the scouts rode eastward through the 
woods the Rangers took an opposite course up White 
Oak Creek. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


SHILOII. 

The evening following that on which Robert War- 
ren and his men left White Oak Creek they learned 
that the Union Army under Grant had moved up on 
transports to Pittsburg Landing, on the Tennessee. 
General Buell was still behind, r in the direction of 
Danville, with a large force. Deeming the informa- 
tion he possessed to be of immediate advantage to 
General Grant, who was only twenty miles from Cor- 
inth, where Beauregard was gathering the flower of 
the Mississippi valley to crush out the Northern army 
in Tennessee, Robert determined to push on in that 
direction at once. On the following day he reported 
in person, and received the praise of “ the silent sol- 
dier” for his invaluable service. His regiment was 
back with Nelson, and General Grant, who seemed to 
be thoroughly posted about the neighboring country, 
ordered him with his companions to report to General 
W. H. L. Wallace till General Nelson, who was daily 
expected, came up. 

Robert had Tennessee and his friends mustered into 
the service and assigned to Captain Allen Warren’s 
company. For nearly a week they lay quietly in en- 
campment between Shiloh Church and Snake Creek, , 
two miles south of the three houses dignified by the 
name of “Pittsburg Landing.” The country was 


812 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


wild, undulating, and wooded ; the scattering farm 
houses were of N the rude kind peculiar to first settle- 
ments. With the exception of an occasional thunder- 
storm, the weather was delightful, and the swelling 
buds and fresh green carpet of grass, with wild-flpwer 
patterns and myriads of vocal birds, made a picture 
of beauty and peace with which the circling line of 
camps and martial dwellers seemed out of harmony. 
Surely General Grant did not appreciate the strength, 
daring, and cunning of the Confederates at Corinth, 
or, if he did, he had a more than soldier’s confidence 
in the conquerors of Donelson, his mighty Western 
men. No fortifications, breastworks, or abbattiswere 
thrown up in a section peculiarly adapted to them, 
and where half the country was densely timbered. 
No cavalry force far in the advance to apprise him of 
danger from the direction of Corinth. But in a solid 
semi-circle, somewhat advanced by Prentiss on the 
left center, near the Corinth road, General Grant held 
his army, with a deep, unfordable river flowing directly 
in his rear. Defeat in such a place would bring on 
him the censure of the world and the execration of 
his countrymen. But the iron will and cool hand of 
the general were equal to any emergency, and at 
Shiloh it seemed as if he increased the danger, just 
once in his life, to show what he could do when all 
seemed lost. 

The evening of April 5th came bright and pleasanter 
for the recent rains. Around from Lick Creek to 
Pittsburg Landing the white tents of Hurlburt, Prentiss, 
Sherman, McClerland, and Smith caught the red rays 
of the setting sun, and looked like opal jewels in the 
vast setting of dark green. From a point eight miles 


BEFORE THE BATTLE. 


313 


further down the river the blue smoke curled up 
peacefully from the camp-fires of Lew Wallace, and 
before the landing two gunboats swung lazily at an- 
chor. Parade and inspection were over and the de- 
tails made. Around a thousand camp-fires the soldiers 
were busy with the evening meal, and jest and laugh- 
ter rang jovial volleys through the woods.* Here and 
there on the low bushes the lately-washed clothes 
were left to dry. The horses champed their grain 
near the wagons, the batteries, and headquarters as 
contentedly as if just in from the carriage or the plow. 
Groups of officers in undress gathered to smoke and 
chat, while from along the line for miles the music 
of the regimental bands came in swelling notes to the 
river. The flags before the different headquarters 
were taken down, the sunlight blended into gray, the 
gray into darkness, with the brightest of stars, and the 
camp-fires shone warmly on beaming, sunburned faces, 
and lit up the green trees with a marvelous beauty. 
Songs associated with home came from knots about 
the bivouacs, while here and there the company wit 
kept his comrades in a roar by his amusing narration 
of his own adventures. Nine o’clock came, and from 
right to left the brazen throats of the bugle sounded 
“ Taps.” Quickly the fires became deserted, the 
laughter and song and story died out, and the white 
tents were filled with forty thousand sleeping men, 
silent as a city of the dead. So passed the quiet 
hours, the soft, mossy earth refusing sound to the feet 
of the watchful sentinel — quiet as the grave in which* 
when another night comes, hundreds of the resting 
soldiers will be gathered for the last long sleep. At 
times the reliefs pass rapidly from post to post, the 
27 


314 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


challenge ringing out like an intruder on the stillness ; 
this and the gallop of the grand rounds, with jingling 
spurs and clashing sabers and startling demands from 
the cover of somber trees of “ Halt ! who goes there?” 
then all is calm and quiet, as if war never were. 

Four o’clock came, and the stars grew less distinct 
in the blending of gray that told the dawn of April 6 
had come. Along the extended line the sound of the 
reveille ran through the Union camp, and forty thou- 
sand men rose from their blankets at the call. But 
blending with the bugle call came the wild cries of 
flying men, the exultant yells of a pursuing foe, the 
boom of artillery, and the rattle and roar of musketry. 
A hundred drums drowned for the time the sound of 
battle as in one horrid din they rattled through the 
camps, one hour ago so peaceful, that summons to 
battle, the “ long roll.” Half-dressed men seized 
their arms and frantically rushed ; nto line. From the 
left frightened men came pouring back, adding to the 
confusion, and by their wild cries demoralizing the 
half-formed regiments. “ Prentiss is cut to pieces !” 
“Back to the river!” “My God, we are ruined!” 
These and a hundred other evidences of defeat greeted 
Ilurlburt and Hildebrand. Nor was this all. On the 
ver^ heels of the flying Union soldiers long gray lines, 
in magnificent order of battle, poured through the 
woods, and with a force irresistible as the ocean’s 
waves they struck the first division and dashed it into 
bleeding fragments. In vain did Sherman try to 
gather his command ; the tide of battle struck him, 
and hundreds of his half-dressed men perished in their 
tents or grasping the arms they had not time to use. 
General W. II. L. Wallace, with whom were our 


THE DISASTROUS FIRST DAY. 


315 


friends, rallied, but not in time to stem the torrent. 
Ey ten o’clock the rebels held the Union camp, Pren- 
tiss’s division was literally smashed to pieces, and 
eight thousand cowed, demoralized men, in the very 
agony of fear, sought the protection of the river’s 
bank, and added to the terror and confusion by their 
cries of distress. Sherman, with a daring that would 
be called reckless, were it not for the coolness and 
skill of his action, dashed along his broken brigades 
and re-formed them. Taylor, Waterhouse, and Beer 
he placed in position with their batteries on McCler- 
nand’s left, and here for the time was the most des- 
perate fighting and terrific carnage. Though shot 
through the hand, and the blood dripping from his 
long fingers, he worked like a Trojan to remedy the 
evils of his unfortified position. Around the left and 
center the battle surged, the enemy neglecting the 
right, which Lew Wallace, eight miles off, was hur- 
rying up to protect. Their plan seemed to be to 
double the line from the left back upon itself and 
sweep it clear to the river, beyond which resistance 
would be useless. Hurlburt and W. II. L. Wallace, 
though shattered from the first stunning blow, had 
with them the flower of Kentucky, Ohio, Illinois, In- 
diana, and Iowa. Below a number of open fields, 
within sight of their camps, now held by the enemy, 
they re-formed. Here Beauregard commanded in 
person, and three times he hurled division after divi- 
sion upon the thin blue lines in front. But there 
Hurlburt and Wallace held their ground, strewing the 
smoking earth with dead each time the enemy charged. 
For five hours and a half the left was thus held, till at 
length, under a murderous fire of artillery, this noble 


316 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


division fell back within .sight of the river, where the 
wooden gunboats Tyler and Lexington were firing shells 
over the Union line into the ranks of the enemy. 
They fell back, bearing with them the dying General 
Wallace, whose men were the last to yield before the 
overpowering force of the enemy. 

By five in the afternoon Grant’s whole army was 
crowded around the Landing, and a circle of three 
quarters of a mile would inclose all his troops. Lew 
Wallace, who ought to have been up, lost time by a 
mistake, and was still far to the right, beyond Snake 
Creek. Still from the outer line of the circle, where 
companies, regiments, brigades, and divisions were 
blended without distinction, the fires of death blazed, 
and men fell by hundreds where so few could be spared. 
By half-past five there were not fifteen thousand men 
in the Union lines. Out of the grand army of the pre- 
vious night five thousand were prisoners, eight thou- 
sand dead or wounded in the woods and camps which 
the enemy held, and as many were demoralized and 
unorganized along the river’s bank. The enemy had 
captured a dozen battle-flags and thirty pieces of ar- 
tillery, which our army could not afford to lose in any 
circumstances. At this time the firing slackened, and a 
tall horseman within full sight of the Union lines rode 
along the -enemy’s front, forming his columns for one 
grand, final charge, which was to sweep out the Yankee 
army south of the Tennessee. Wherever he went 
he was cheered vociferously, and an old soldier who 
stood, musket in hand, near Robert Warren, said: 
“ That’s the damned traitor Albert Sidney Johnston.” 
In the mean time Grant, with his staff, occupied the 
Union center, near the Landing. He was evident!* 


THE ENEMY REPULSED. 


317 


as cool as if there had been no battle. Webster was 
there preparing his artillery for the struggle, and the 
firm, compressed lips of the men along the line showed 
the determination with which the foe would be met. 
Only a few minutes of painful anxiety, during which 
the men gazed at the forming foe, then back at the 
black river, praying, as Wellington is said to have 
prayed at Waterloo, that the sun would go down or 
re-enforcements come up. Lew Wallace and Buell 
were needed now if ever. Yet there was no help 
from them, and the men grasped more firmly their 
weapons and looked up for aid . The rebel lines closed 
up, then suddenly from forty pieces of artillery they 
poured in a murderous fire on the devoted band of 
Union heroes, and a storm of musket-balls came driv- 
ing like hail from the line of twenty thousand men. 
There was but the show of a reply to this deluge of 
shot and shell. Then came on in splendid array, with 
hats slouched and pieces trailed, the divisions of 
Hardee and Polk, with Breckinridge’s brigade. It 
was the last chance for Grant. His infantry fire was 
reserved till a pistol ball would kill a man in the fore- 
most line of the enemy. Then began the very har- 
vest of death. Infantry, batteries, and gunboats, 
with the rapidity of lightning and accuracy of fate, 
hurled out a storm of missiles before which the first 
rank melted and those behind faltered and w^ere 
broken. Each man in the Union line felt the fate of 
the Army depended on him, and as the sun went down 
behind the black clouds a cheer of triumph rang out 
from Pittsburg Landing ; the enemy’s last desperate 
charged was repulsed, and from the southern bank of the 
river came the shouts from Buell’s cavalry advance. 

27 * 


318 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The night of that fearful Sabbath came to the 
valley over which hung the shadow of death. No 
rest for the starving, wearied men, who lay on their 
arms and “ anxiously thought of the morrow.” The 
enemy were reveling in the captured camps, and the 
wounded were uncared for ; still through the night the 
stragglers were reorganized, and Lew Wallace joined 
his division close up to the right. During the black 
hours the steamers were busy passing back and forth, 
while regiments left their decks and took position in 
the extended lines. All was quiet as the previous 
night, but how different ! Occasionally a screeching 
shell from the gunboats flew over the Union ranks, 
while, as if in mockery of the battle sounds, “ the 
thunder drums of heaven” rolled and rattled, and 
the battle-field was drenched with rain. 

Monday morning, the 7th, came, and thirty thousand 
fresh men were ready to confront the victorious foe. 
On the ground held by the noble Wallace, Nelson 
placed his gallant brigade. To his right came Crit- 
tenden, then McCook, Hurlburt, McClernand and 
Sherman. Divided among the latter two divisions 
were the remnants of Wallace and Prentiss’s com- 
mands, and on the extreme right was stationed Lew 
Wallace’s fighting division. It was noticeable that in 
all these divisions there was but one regiment from 
east of the Ohio line, viz., the gallant Seventy-seventh 
Pennsylvania, under the command of Colonel Stam- 
baugli. 

It was pastseven in the morning when Lew Wallace 
began the battle by a brisk artillery fire, to which the 
enemy was not slow to respond. Gradually the thun- 
der spread along the line, till Nelson took it up, and 


THE VICTORIOUS SECOND DAY. 


319 


advancing liis command beyond Hurlburt’s old camp., 
he met the enemy, who evidently intended to try the 
crushing- out-in- detail process practiced so suc- 
cessfully the day before. They massed and charged 
Nelson, but it was to find themselves mowed 
down by Terrell’s howitzers, and harassed by Jack- 
son’s cavalry. Westward the rebel line surged 
and struck Crittenden, punishing Smith’s brigade, 
but the success was short-lived, for Boyle and 
Woods rushed to the rescue and hurled back the 
astonished foe, capturing a battery of their artillery. 
Still west the rebels struck, till McCook checked them 
in their desperate efforts to capture an Illinois bat- 
tery, around which the Sixth Indiana fought like bull- 
dogs. Then Bousseau, McClernand, and Hurlburt, 
the latter with jaded but still able men, pushed for- 
ward toward the old camps, driving back Bragg in 
confusion, and sending their shouts of victory west- 
ward to Wallace and Sherman. The enemy was tired 
of the assaults that cost him so fearfully, and about 
noon began a tefrific fire, which was simply a mask 
for his retreat. To the left, where Nelson fought, the 
rebels had been working a battery, captured the pre- 
vious day, with murderous effect. As Nelson ad- 
vanced, Jackson’s cavalry was ordered up a ravine to 
take the battery in flank. Robert Warren with his 
men had reported to their company the previous night, 
when it came up with Buell, and though they had 
fought bravely in the confused ranks of yesterday’s 
battle, all felt better in the saddle with their own reg- 
iment. Up the ravine, rough and rugged, the regi- 
ment pushed, and under a galling fire they ascended 
the side within two hundred vards of the battery, 


320 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


which was well supported. Quickly, while the regi- 
ment was forming, a section wheeled to oppose them. 
Then the sabers leaped along the line, and the bugle 
sounded the “ charge,” which the men shouted as their 
horses leaped forward to obey the summons. The 
artillery opened, ploughing gaps in the double line of 
crowding horses, while the infantry poured in a fire be- 
fore which many a saddle was emptied, and many a 
gallant steed fell suddenly when half the distance had 
been gone over, Don leaped ahead of the line as if 
in a furious race. Robert in the stirrups, his sword 
hanging to his wrist by the knot, with all his force 
jerked the bridle to stop the frantic animal. The bit 
broke in the effort, and the uncontrolled horse, with 
the bit dangling at his ears, swept down toward the 
rebel guns. To jump off would be to be killed by 
the advancing line, which now T cheered wildly. To gc 
on w T as certain death. All occurred in an instant. 
Robert grasped his sword, cheered back to the ad- 
vancing line, and with one lightning thought of home 
and loved ones, he went straight as an arrow for the guns, 
behind which a soldier, blackened with smoke, stood 
with a lanyard in his hand. A moment of flame and 
smoke, then a flying leap across the gun, and Robert 
Warren, on the plunging, unmanageable Don, was slash- 
ing with his saber like an enraged giant among gunners, 
battery, horses, and infantry. A few seconds and the 
whole line rushed over the guns with deafening cheers, 
and the infantry supporting turned and fled without 
order. The cheer from the left went westward, and the 
whole line advanced over the old camping ground, 
through the tents filled with wounded, and close be- 
hind the routed enemy, who left his dead and wounded 


THE CROWNING TRIUMPH. 


321 


on the field. Thus, after thirty-eight hours of the 
most terrible fighting ever witnessed before on the 
continent, victory was snatched by valor from the 
jaws of defeat, and the flags of the Union were pushed 
by patriots still further South. 


CHAPTER, XXX. 


THE IDEAL BATTLE. 

There is a fascination in the stories of battle that 
thrills one — the long, gleaming lines of steel ; the 
death-dealing batteries ; the fiery, restless horses ; the 
waving flags and standards, and, ringing above all 
sounds the trumpet’s brazen call, or the martial airs 
of the bands. We read of the sweeping charges of 
masses of horsemen, with flashing swords and terrify- 
ing cheers, and our hearts throb as we picture the op- 
posing hollow squares of infantry receiving the charge 
with kneeling lines of bayonets and a storm of deadly 
fire. In the old stories that captivated us there was 
a mathematical accuracy in the movements described. 
Regiments were always organized, batteries always 
working with fine precision in the right place, and the 
cavalry were held to be pushed forward at the moment 
of the enemy’s weakness ; murderous storms of lead ; 
irresistible charges, where swords and bayonets 
clashed, and standards rose and fell above the din and 
smoke and tumult; electrifying commands from well- 
loved leaders, and dying cheers from bleeding heroes ; 
band-men to care for the wounded ; hospitals ready 
to receive them ; and a general idea pervading all that 
every movement was in accordance with a previously- 
arranged plan by the great genius commanding — all 
these went to make up our notions of a battle. To 


THE REAL BATTLE. 


323 


some extent these pictures, as applied to European 
conflicts, were correct, but they were wholly inappli- 
cable to any fight during the late American war. As 
at Shiloh, so in a hundred other fights. Long, opposing 
lines of infantry and artillery at varying distances, 
stretching over fields and through woods, poured 
deadly volleys of shot and shell into the confronting 
lines. Here a company of skirmishers, feeling the 
uncertain front ; there a regiment or brigade dash- 
ing forward to break the opposing line. But, as a 
rule, it was one whirlwind of fire, before which com- 
panies and regiments melted. The individuality of 
the soldier was never lost. Groups of broken organi- 
zations rallied to fight on their own responsibility. 
Men sprang out of line to aid a falling comrade or 
secure a wounded officer. There was one rallying 
point in moments of defeat, where the men gathered 
with determined faces : the center of the regiment, 
where the colors were held above the smoke, and 
guarded with a desperate valor, even when the battle 
was felt to be lost. To the rear of the lines of battle 
the wounded who could walk usually hobbled or 
staggered back, trying as they moved to stop the 
bleeding till they could reach the field hospital of 
their command. As at Shiloh, we had but few pursuits 
after a conflict, for there were but few decisive battles. 
Each side fought with a desperate determination, and 
the close of an engagement saw both sides too much 
exhausted for a long retreat or a vigorous pursuit. 
But on the field there was all the suffering and car- 
nage which gave the red color to the old battle pic- 
tures. The dead, here in piles where they fell about 
the colors or in defense of a battery ; there in irregu- 


324 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


lar lines where they dropped in the ranks ; in the ad- 
vance a blue coat or a gray, sprinkled where they fell 
on the skirmish line ; in every attitude — one grasp- 
ing his gun, with his face to the foe, and his strong 
breast tom by the exploded shell ; another lying on 
his back, with open mouth and purple face, and a 
small, red hole through his throat ; a boy, resting his 
fair head on his bent arm, as if asleep, while the blood 
in a black pool shone below his white forehead ; a 
strong, heavily-bearded man, sitting against a tree 
which a cannon shot had struck, while his torn, crushed 
limbs are gathered up under him, and fragments of 
white bone stick through the red flesh and blue pants ; 
a horse, with the ground torn about him, marking the 
agony of his death-struggle, while the extended neck 
and head are clotted with blood ; a group of horses, 
dead near some broken cannon, harness tangled and 
torn, and a great, black hole in the ground, and pieces 
of charred wood lying about, telling that a caisson 
had exploded there ; a horse and a rider dead side 
by side, one of the soldier’s feet still fast in the stir- 
rup, and his sword broken in the fall ; a pool of dirty 
water, with a circle of dead and wounded, friend and 
foe, gathered about it. These are the silent horrors of 
the field. Who can portray the suffering of the 
wounded, the groans and cries of distress, the appeals 
for aid, the prayers for death to come in relief, the 
parched lips and swollen tongues begging for water ; 
the shattered arms and mangled limbs, bandaged 
with torn clothes, or the bleeding stayed by conv 
pressed belts ? On the field, when the fight has closed, 
there are no foes, and a common humanity and com- 
mon suffering blot out the late anger and revenge, 


PROMOTION AHEAD. 


325 


and mercy for the time takes possession of the field 
of strife. 

With Albert Sidney Johnston killed, and eleven 
thousand dead and wounded in the hands of the 
Union forces, and the great object of the battle un- 
accomplished, the Confederates fell slowly back to 
Corinth, for the time broked and dispirited. A short 
pursuit by General Sherman resulted in the capture 
of a large number of stragglers, but three days elapsed 
before Grant’s shattered army was ready to obey 
Halleck’s order for an investment of Corinth. 

A few days after the battle Robert, who was again 
with his company, much to Archy’s delight, received 
a note from Colonel Jackson, asking him to come at 
once to his tent. Supposing there was more scouting 
prepared for him, he reported immediately to the 
colonel, who received him with great warmth of man- 
ner, and without the stiff etiquette peculiar to strict 
military business. 

“Warren, I must congratulate you,” said the colo- 
nel ; “ that affair at Shiloh on Monday has made you 
famous.” 

“I am truly sorry to hear it, colonel ; for, as I told 
you before, it was the merest accident, and I am not 
entitled to the praise I have received from you and 
my comrades.” 

“We are the best judges of that, my dear fellow. 
I wish to tell you that E Company is without a com- 
missioned officer, and I have sent in your name for 
the captaincy. This meets the approval of General 
Nelson, whom by the way we must go and see at 
once.” As the colonel spoke he put on his hat and 
belt, and left the tent with Robert. General Nelson 
28 


32(5 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


was a huge burly man, looking more like a retired 
English sea captain than an American soldier. His 
face was florid, his manner brusque and at times 
apparently rude ; yet he had the kindest and bravest 
of hearts, and under his rough exterior he carried 
the most genial of dispositions. 

“Hello, Jackson ! glad to see you ; come in, come 
in ! Here, damn you,” to the black servant, “ get 
stools for the gentlemen. There, be seated/ ’ 

General Nelson thus addressed Colonel Jackson 
and his companion as they entered his tent. 

“This is Mr. Warren, general, the young man 
who led the charge on the battery in front of your 
division.” 

“The devil you say ! Why, Warren, give me your 
hand. Bravest thing I ever saw in my life. As- 
tounded those battery-men. Here, Piper, the whisky. 
Must drink Captain Warren’s health.” 

4 ‘ I am very thankful for your kindness, general, but 
it is due to the regiment to say that I do not deserve 
it. My bit broke early in the charge, and I lost all 
control of my horse, a very spirited animal. Of 
course there was nothing left but to ride for the battery.” 

As Robert said this his face grew a deeper bronze 
and he looked down at his boots. 

“Why the devil didn’t you jump off, then, when 
your horse got so far ahead ?” asked the general with 
a chuckling laugh. 

“ In truth I did think about it,” replied Robert, 
“but I made up my mind that it was death in any 
event, so I preferred dying at the hands of the enemy.” 

“By the Gods of war, sir, you’re a brick ! You did 
just right. Here, your health, Captain Warren.” 


CAPTAIN ROBERT WARREN. 


327 


The general passed the glasses, and all drank. 

“I have learned your history, captain, and let me 
say I respect you — yes, sir, I respect you. To-night I 
will see General Buell, and I think we can fix you all 
right.'’ 

At these compliments Bobert blushed more deeply, 
and got so confused that he could only stammer out 
his thanks. The general saw this and changed the 
conversation, and Robert declared as he left the tent 
with Colonel Jackson that he never met a more 
delightful man in his life. To which the colonel 
replied : 

4 4 There are a great many opinions about General 
Nelson as a gentleman, but only one as to his patriot- 
ism and bravery." 

The news of Robert’s promotion spread through the 
camp like wildfire, and earnest congratulations poured 
in from all sides. His cousin Allen, however, was 
deeply affected, and held Robert’s hand for a long 
time as he expressed his satisfaction at his being an 
officer. 

That night, as they sat at supper, they were both 
struck and amused by the expression of undisguised 
delight on Archy’s face. That very respectable fel- 
low was acting as if he had partaken largely of laugh- 
ing-gas, with the happiest possible effect. He laughed 
at every plate and knife he placed. He chuckled and 
laughed at the frying meat and roasting sweet pota- 
toes. He smiled serenely at every passing form. At 
times he would stand twisting his canvas apron around 
his hands and staring with an expression of suppressed 
mirth at his old master ; and then, as if unable to con- 
tain himself, he would burst out with a hobbling. 


328 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


musical laugli, interspersed with such expressions as 
“Praise de Lor’ ! ” “ Ki yi, what hid Susey say?” 

“ O golly, I knowd it, shuah ! ” 

It was impossible for Robert not to notice these 
very peculiar proceedings of his ex-servant. So he 
did what Archy had been trying to get him to do for 
some time — that is, to ask him the cause of his ex- 
cessive hilarity. 

“Don’t yeh know, Mauss Robert? Don’t yeh 
know, shuah ? ” And Archy chuckled again to such an 
extent that in prudence he left the back of Captain 
Allen’s camp-stool and gave the fire a joyous kick. 

“ I can ’t say that I do know, Archy ; but I assure 
you I am very happy to see you in such spirits,” said 
Robert, looking up with a sly smile at Archy, who had 
returned and was again torturing his apron. 

“Yeh ’re shuah yeh doesn’t know?” again asked 
Archy. 

“ Yes, sure.” 

“ 0 golly, Mauss Robert.” 

“Well, Archy, out with it.” 

“ Mauss Robert, yeh ’s an offsir. Ki yi, doesn’t yeh 
know yeh’s an olfsir?” and Archy opened his great 
eyes and gave a wondering laugh. 

“Yes, Archy, I think I am to be, and I am glad 
you are pleased,” said Robert, looking down at his 
plate, with a full knowledge of the thoughts running 
through Archy’s head. 

After supper Archy hurried through with the clean- 
ing up, and packed everything in the camp-chest ; then 
he came to the tent-door and looked in for an instant 
as if to attract Robert’s attention, which he did not 
succeed in doing ; so he walked away and came back 


“IT’S DE ODDER CAP’N I WANTS.” 


329 


from the fire in a few minutes and looked in again. 
Robert noticed him and asked : 

“Archy, do you wish to see Captain Warren ?” 

“Yes, mauss, I does.” 

Allen rose to walk out, but Archy, with a laugh, 
said : 

“ Not you, Mauss Al. It ’s de odder cap’ll I wants.” 

The captains laughed heartily at this, and Robert 
went out, when Archy led him mysteriously to the 
line where the horses were picketed and pointed out 
Senor, who was in splendid condition. 

“Mauss Robert, yeh kin have me 'long now, yell's 
an offsir — can't yell?” 

“ Why, yes, Archy, if you would like to leave Allen,” 
said Robert, with an a ected indifference. 

“If I'd like to leave Mauss Al? Why, Mauss 
Robert, hav 'nt I worked an’ look 'd for'd to this day, 
a-prayin' I might be 'long wid yeh again? An' now 
yeh does n’t keer J” Archy dropped his head with a 
dejected air as he concluded, but his whole expres- 
sion changed as he felt his own hand clasped by his 
master’s and heard him say : 

“Archy, 1 did not care for this commission on my 
own account, but I did on yours. I wanted you near 
me. And from this day forth only death can come to 
keep us apart.” 

Archy returned the pressure with no gentle squeeze, 
and a hot drop fell on his master’s hand. He was too 
full to express his feelings beyond ejaculating, “Oh, 
praise de Lor’ ! praise de Lor’ !” 

That night as Robert lay in his tent he saw the fly 
opened nearly every hour and the tall form of Archy as 
he peered in, and he heard, as in a dream, the soft 
28 * 


330 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


voice pouring out the hymns that suggested home 
and brought up all its happier memories. 

While in camp near Corinth, Colonel Jackson sent 
Robert an order he had received from General Buell, 
which was to send Captain Robert Warren and twenty 
such men as he might select to his (General Buell’s) 
headquarters at once. 

Robert was very anxious to secure a lieutenancy 
for Gaines, and have him assigned r.o his company ; 
and for this reason he sought every opportunity to 
have that brave fellow’s sterling merits known. Of 
course he was the first man selected, and with him the 
Dawns, Aleck Cameron, and Tennessee’s Western 
friends, “Indian Nation,” “Arkansas,” and Long 
Sam. It was an easy matter to find men anxious to 
accompany Robert on his supposed scout, for the 
daring and success of his expeditions were becoming 
subjects for camp-fire recital. 

On reporting in the evening, and a few hours after 
getting the order, to General Buell, Captain Robert 
Warren — to give him his title for once — was instructed 
to make a scout in the direction of Holly Springs, 
where it was supposed the enemy was organizing for 
a dash northward, and, having obtained all the in- 
formation he could, to return to the army at Corinth* 
or to report to Colonel Philip H. Sheridan, if he found 
his command easier of access. 

That night Robert W arren and his scouts, by a de- 
tour, got beyond the Union lines and turned south 
toward Holly Springs, intending to make their observa- 
tions the next night. The country was thinly settled 
and the roads heavy and sandy, but both grew better 
as he got further south from the line of Tennessee. 


ONE OF THE CHIVALRY. 


331 


That evening he went into camp in a piece of woods 
near a large cotton plantation about a half mile from 
the main road. A short time afterwards an elderly 
gentleman, attracted by the smoke, made his ap- 
pearance and introduced himself, in the most affable 
manner, as “ Dr. Miller, the proprietor of the planta- 
tion.” Robert was glad to see him, and soon made 
arrangements for the purchase of fodder for the horses 
and additional food for the men. Dr. Miller was a 
Southern gentleman of the old school ; that is, he was 
generous, impulsive, sensitive, and conceited, and the 
half hour he spent with the scouts, whose true char- 
acter he of course knew nothing of, was occupied by 
minute details of what he would have done had the 
war occurred ten years before ; what he might be 
tempted to do if the Yankees came within gun-shot 
of his home, for old as he was he considered himself 
still a match for a dozen of ‘ 4 the cowardly negro- 
stealers,’ 9 as he called the Northern soldiers. 

It cost nothing for Robert to tell Dr. Miller that he 
honored his spirit and devotion, and hoped the young 
men would emulate his example. Indeed this little 
piece of judicious flattery completely won the chival- 
rous old man, who began to think Robert a young 
fellow of judgment and sense, so he consequently 
extended an invitation for him to spend the evening 
at his house. Robert accepted with profuse thanks, 
and, after instructing Gaines carefully as to what 
should be done, he accompanied the doctor to his 
very comfortable home : that is, the place was com- 
fortable for a Mississippi planter's house. It was 
white, and had the stereotyped disproportioned pil- 
lars before it and the wide gallery around it. The 


332 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


grounds were very slovenly kept. They had been 
well laid out once, but the neglect and weeds spoke 
of aesthetical plans never fully carried out. The in- 
terior of the house was in keeping with the outside. 
A wide hall, without carpet or matting, that echoed 
the footfalls like a deserted or haunted castle. A 
mild smell of decay in the large, slovenly- furnished 
parlor, with its faded gilt paper and mock-chande- 
liers. Robert took a hasty inventory of the place 
as the servant entered with lights, and the doctor 
went out to order supper. 

An unexpected pleasure was in store for Robert. 
At the supper-table he was introduced to two hand- 
some, tall young ladies, both dressed alike, and re- 
sembling each other like two drops of water. They 
were the doctor’s twin daughters and only children. 
He was a widower, and felt a just pride in his beauti- 
ful children. In truth, Robert’s respect for the old 
gentleman went up at once, he frowning upon the 
doctor’s wish that one of them had been a son, in 
order that he might fight for the South. 

After supper, in answer to a query from the doc- 
tor, Robert said he hoped to meet General Bragg at 
Holly Springs next day, as he w r as to report to him 
the result of his scout. 

“Why, my dear sir, Bragg was at Tupelo a few 
days since waiting for Beauregard to join him ; he 
surely would not come over to Holly Springs at this 
critical time,” said the doctor, with some excitement. 

Robert lowered his voice, and in a confidential and 
mysterious tone said : “ Doctor, you will hear of 
things that will astonish you before this week is past* 
I know of combinations that would make your hair 
rise. Some day you will know all.” 


THE FAIR TWINS. 


333 


The doctor appreciated Robert’s confidence, for lie 
lowered his voice and mysteriously said : “ You aston- 
ish me.” 

“ Do you know what troops are at the Springs now?” 
asked Robert ; then, as if correcting himself for ask- 
ing such a question, he added, self reprovingly, “but 
of course, you do not, the men are so cautiously on 
the move.” 

“The Texas Rangers are there now. You know 
them, no doubt,” said the doctor, nodding in the 
direction of Robert, who replied : 

“Oh yes, very well.” 

“ I suppose,” continued the doctor, “ you know that 
Wharton commands them now ; that Terry is dead. 
A noble fellow Terry was.” 

“Yes, a brave man; but one equally daring is at 
the head of the gallant Eighth. Wharton is a splen- 
did soldier,” said Robert, with undisguised earnest- 
ness. 

“Do you know any of the men in the Rangers?’' 
asked the doctor, and without waiting for an answer 
he went on, “ I have a nephew who belongs to them, 
a splendid young fellow, from Brazoria, named Addi- 
son, a sister’s child. By the way, I expect him here 
about 10 o’clock.” 

“ I would be very glad to meet any of the regiment, 
particularly if related to my fair friends,” said Robert, 
bowing in the direction of the young ladies, who sat 
suggestively near the piano. 

Robert, who really loved music, asked, as a favor, 
that the ladies would play, and with well-bred willing, 
ness they at once acquiesced. The captain was a 
soldier, so they indulged him, by way of a prelude. 


334 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


with “ The Bonnie Blue Flag,” “Dixie,” with appro- 
priate words, and a queer, figurative song of remark- 
able poetic ability, called “ The Southern Wagon,” 
in which the States — South — were represented as 
piling into a vehicle, one after the other, unlike the 
original swain and his “ Phillis dear,” and each stanza 
ended with the delightful refrain — 

“ Then wait for the wagon, 

The dissolution wagon, 

Oh! wait for the wagon, 

And we ’ll all take a ride. ,, 

Fortunately Bobert knew the air, and, with a fitting 
military enthusiasm, he walked to the piano at the 
first martial sound, and, with his deep bass, swelled 
out the chorus to the great delight of the doctor, 
who beat time on the matting with his feet. During 
the singing Bobert found time to look at his watch : 
five minutes to nine. 

Suddenly he became aware that he had business at 
camp which would detain him a short time, and, with 
regrets in profusion, he stated his intention of leaving^ 
saying at the same time that if agreeable he would 
return in a half hour and finish his delightful treat. 

The doctor wished to accompany him, but Bobert 
politely put him off by saying he would run to the 
camp and back in no time, which would be very un- 
dignified for him to do if the doctor accompanied 
him. The doctor laughed, and Bobert verified his 
words by starting for the camp with a speed that 
seemed marvelous to the old man, and which led him 
as he entered the house to utter, “I could do that 
when I was young. ” 

Beaching camp, Bobert sought Gaines at once. 


CAUTION AND COMPLIMENTS. 


335 


“Andy, you know Addison, of Brazoria ?” 

“I reckon I do,” said Gaines with emphasis. 

“ Well, he is to visit this plantation, which his uncle 
owns, to-night. Send some men out on the Holly 
Springs road, and give them instructions to keep safely 
all men who belong to the Bangers. Let all bodies 
pass that number more than four.” 

“All right, captain.” 

“ I am going back to the house. Send Archy for 
me at once if there is the appearance of danger, or if 
Addison is captured.” 

“I will do so,” said Gaines, while Bobert exam- 
ined his pistols carefully, and hooked up, under his 
overcoat, his Shiloh sword. He returned to the house, 
where he met the doctor and his daughters on the 
gallery. 

“ Did you find your men all right, captain ?” asked 
one of the young ladies. 

“Yes, but men get careless, particularly about 
guard duty, when away from the enemy’s front. They 
think it an unnecessary work ; but it is duty, and I 
am determined to carry out my orders to the letter. 
I never let four hours of the night pass without visit- 
ing all parts of my camp,” said Bobert, taking off his 
overcoat as he entered the house, with the beautiful 
twins in the advance, and the doctor bringing up the 
rear. 

“I wish all our soldiers were like you, captain.” 
said the doctor as they resumed their seats ; “ we 
would soon wind up the war. But to tell the truth, I 
think they are very careless as a rule.” 

“You pay me an undeserved compliment, doctor; 
but I think I can say without vanity that I wish all 


336 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


southern men were like me in principle, there would 
be fewer traitors in the land, and no need for con- 
scripting, as I understand the Confederate govern- 
ment proposes. ” 

“ You are right, captain ; the army is full of traitors, 
and fear only holds them in the ranks. They are igno- 
rant as a rule and cannot appreciate their rights. Bragg 
shot some men a day or two since at Tupelo for some 
petty offense, and we all think the influence will be 
very good. Why, over in Alabama/' said the doctor, 
warming with his subject, “they use bloodhounds to 
chase the deserters." He forgot that Mississippi had 
thousands of them. She was the North Carolina of 
the West, hated by the Confederate army for the 
meanness of her citizens and the uncertainty of her 
soldiers. 

Here one of the beautiful twins ventured to say : 

“I declare, captain, many of the young men near 
here were for staying at home, but the ladies refused 
to receive them. We clubbed together and wrote 
them round-robbin letters, and sent them crinoline, 
and just drove them into the army." 

“Yes," interrupted the other sweet angel, who 
played the accompaniments while her sister sang : 
“The ladies in Jackson, Meridian, and Mobile — in- 
deed in all our cities and towns — have resolved, and 
organized for the purpose, not to see any gentlemen 
not dressed in grey. Personally I have determined 
not to marry a man who is not certain he has killed 
at least one vile Yankee." 

The doctor smiled on his heroic daughter an ap- 
proving, paternal smile, which showed the pride he 
felt in one capable of such denial for the sake of truth. 


“HALT THAR!” 


337 


“Few ladies can boast of your patriotic spirit, and 
should the fates spare me to see you again, I promise 
to show you a Yankee’s scalp,” said the captain, bow- 
ing to the self-denying girl. 

The twins clapped their little white hands in ap- 
plause, and the doctor, with liquid approval in his 
eyes, smiled at the captain and the olive branches. 

While the captain talked and sang with the doctor 
and his daughters, the pickets about the camp were 
vigilant. Gaines remained behind to give orders, 
and as Archy was the only man who knew Addison, 
he sent him with Tennessee out on the Holly Springs 
road. It was the black man’s first duty as a soldier, 
and every sound was listened to, and every shadow 
of moving branch or passing oloud watched. About 
ten o’clock, Tennessee, who had been listening with 
his ear close to the ground, rose quickly, and cocking 
his rifle and adjusting his belt, said, in his own cool 
way. 

“ Keerful now, ole boy, I hears three on ’em a-comin* 
shuah.” 

To which Archy responded : “ Oh golly ! ” accom- 
panying the trite remark with a low chuckle. 

“Archy, pull down yer hat, so’s ter hide that ’ar 
face o’ yourn, an’ do the haltin’,” said Tennessee, 
stepping behind Archy in the middle of the road. 

On came the horsemen, chatting and laughing, seen 
where the half-moon shone, then lost in the darkness 
of the forest shadows. Unaware of the vigilant 
pickets’ proximity, they rode close up at a brisk can- 
ter, when suddenly the horses were reined in at the 
sight of a giant form with leveled gun in front, who 
commanded them in a deep voice, “ Halt thar ! ” 
29 


338 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Then another huge form rose up with polished rifle- 
barrel in the indistinct light and pointed it at the 
breast of the second horseman. 

“Who goes thar?” asks the deep voice. 

“Friends of the Confederacy, by thunder i Who 
ever imagined there was a picket in this region?” 
responded the well-known voice of Addison. 

“It ’s him,” whispered Archy. 

“Dismount an’ ’vance one at a time,” said Tennes- 
see, stepping quickly beside Archy. 

The first man who dismounted gave his name as 
Addison, and, being disarmed, he stepped to the rear. 
The others advanced and were disarmed in the same 
manner. Addison seemed indignant, and evinced a 
spirit to complain at his treatment, but Tennessee, 
who had fastened the horses to some saplings, ordered 
them to move ahead, intimating that he might be 
tempted to shoot if there was too much talk. 

When near the camp-fire the prisoners were ordered 
to sit down, and a guard was placed over them by 
Gaines. 

Addison was not aware of the character of his cap- 
tors, and he expostulated against such treatment. 

“Where are your passes?” demanded Gaines. 

“We have none. Our regiment is close by, and 
after ‘taps’ I thought I ’d run over and see my uncle, 
who lives close by. Come, lieutenant, there is no 
use in holding us for nothing.” This was said by 
Addison in a pleading tone, but Gaines was determined 
in his reply. 

“ I have orders to arrest any man who travels this road 
to-night without authority. The captain will be here 
presently ; speak to him.” 


“GOSH, MAUSS, WE’SE GOT ’EM!” 


339 


The prisoners swore and growled at their ill luck. 
In the meantime Archy hurried to the house, where 
the captain was listening in raptures to “Beauregard’s 
Grand March.” On learning that his servant wished 
to see him, Robert excused himself and stepped out. 
As he did so Archy seized his arms and in a hurried 
whisper said: ‘'Gosh, Mauss Robot, we \se got ’em.” 

“What, Addison?’' 

“ Yas, Adsoii. He did n 7 ^ know me ('ailed me 
‘sah H an’ ‘sargent/ I’d like ’d ter larf right out," 
and Archy put his hand to his mouth to suppress the 
chuckle which the memory of the event excited. 

Robert returned to the parlor, and, thanking the 
family for their courteous treatment, said he must 
return at once to camp, as a courier had arrived with 
orders that must be acted on without delay. 

The doctor regretted that the captain could not stay 
until his nephew arrived, and the young ladies for 
once deemed duty to the Confederacy cruel. Bidding 
them good-bye, Robert returned to camp, and, after a 
hasty consultation between himself, Gaines, and Ten- 
nessee, it was decided to examine the prisoners sepa- 
rately, with a loaded pistol close to the head of each 
while being questioned, first informing them that their 
captors were Yankees. If the stories corroborated, it 
would prevent the necessity for a scout around the 
Springs. Extinguishing the fires, Robert gave the 
order to “saddle up,” attending to his own horse, 
while Archy quickly mounted and galloped back after 
the horses of the Texans. The prisoners, closely 
guarded, were placed on their own horses, and not an 
answer given to their wondering questions, while 
Robert led the advance, riding toward a swamp which 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


340 

they had passed about three miles back on the road. 
Reaching this they rode in some distance, and the 
order was given to dismount. The ground was miry 
and wet. The moon had gone down, and the black 
ash and tamarack trees, with their drooping branches, 
gave an air of gloom to the place, which was intensi- 
fied by the occasional “hoot, hoot” of an owl and 
the croaking of countless frogs. 

“ It is, perhaps, unnecessary to tell you,” said 
Robert, advancing to the prisoners, and speaking in a 
firm tone, “that you are prisoners in the hands of 
Union scouts. Should we be captured in this service 
we would expect no mercy from the rebels, and con- 
sequently we feel inclined to return none. Your only 
chance for escape is to answer truthfully such ques- 
tions as I may put to you. I will examine you sepa- 
rately, and if the stories do not agree I will send you 
farther into this swamp, and no man will ever know 
your fate. Walk this way, sir.” Robert motioned 
to the prisoner nearest to him, who immediately 
obeyed the order. 

Walking back some distance the prisoner said : 
“ I 'm willin' ter tell all I knows, an' that ain't much,' ’ 
whereupon he gave his regiment and brigade, with 
the names of the organizations at the Springs and by 
whom commanded. 

After learning all he could in this way, Robert said : 

“You say John Wharton is your colonel?” 

“ That 's what I meant to say,” replied the prisoner. 

“Where is Colonel Wharton now?” asked Robert. 

;< Wall, cap’n, I don't like to say,” said the pris- 
oner, in a hesitating tone. 

“ You must be the judge of your own answers,” said 


SWAMPED. 


341 


Robert, sternly. “Here, Aleck Cameron, bring me 
the halter from this man’s horse. 

“ Stop, cap’n, ye ’ve got the dead wood on me this 
time. I ’ll tell yeh all about it and the prisoner’s 
voice grew tremulous. 

“Well, where is John Wharton?” 

“ Why, he an’ Major Harrison is back on the next 
plantation to the doctor’s. The regiment ’s close by.” 

“How far from there is the regiment?” asked 
Robert. 

“Not mor ’n a mile. Fact is, we ’s a-goin’ on a 
raid inside the Yankee lines to-morrow, and the regi- 
ment was pushed out to-night so ’s to give us a good 
start in the mornin’.” 

The other prisoner was brought up, and his state- 
ments agreed in every particular with those of the 
first. 

Addison was then taken aside, when Robert made 
the same demand, 

“ I cannot be forced to give information that will 
damage the cause of my country, and if you are the 
brave man you ought to be to command such an un- 
dertaking, you will do me no wrong for standing by my 
principles,” said Addison. 

“ Might I ask what your principles are ? ’ ’ 

“You can, sir J My principles as a soldier are the 
interests of the Confederacy,” replied Addison. 

“Yes, and to promote the interests of the Confed- 
eracy, you, who now ask life at my hands, would sanc- 
tion the imprisonment of an aged man ; you would 
hold him till death came in mercy to take him from 
your cruel grasp ; you would forget every feeling of 
boasted love for that old man’s daughter and vaunted 
29 * 


342 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


affection for that old man’s son in the hour of their 
great trouble, and crush them to the earth.” Robert 
was going on, his tone becoming more excited, but 
the prisoner stopped him, exclaiming in great agita- 
tion : • 

“Gracious Heaven, who are you?” 

“ I am Robert Warren, of Gonzelletta. If you doubt 
me, I can place your finger in the bullet-mark of your 
cowardly assassins. Yes, Mr. Addison, I can show 
you the fragments of the flag which you tore down 
from the court-house at Brazoria, and which I am 
bearing back. I have a hundred burning evidences 
in my heart of such as you and your principles. Let 
me hear no more of them from you — I might be 
tempted to degrade myself with your blood.” 

“ For God’s sake, shoot me, Robert Warren, but do 
not talk in that strain. Many things in the past I 
would change, but as God is my judge I was influenced 
by honest motives. I regret your father’s death, and 
the loss of your property, but it was not my fault.” 

“What, my property gone? Why, this is a fresh 
blow. I suppose my mother and sister are homeless, 
and . 11 that your principles may triumph.” Robert 
walked away, for he was too much excited to speak 
longer with the prisoner. He had learned before of 
the southern confiscation act, and this intelligence 
but confirmed his fears. 

This was no time to think of self. Wharton w'a^ 
near by, with but few men near him. To capture or 
kill him would be to render the country a signal ser- 
vice. He certainly had papers o f value on his per- 
son. Robert determined to enter the don’s der. 

“ Aleck Cameron, you, Ned, Dawn, and Archy must 


NOCTURNAL VISITORS. 


343 


stay back here and keep good watch over the prison- 
ers ; I will return inside of three hours. Light no fires 
and if the prisoners attempt to escape shoot them down 
at once.” 

“ Hoot, captain, they ’re nae sa daft as to tempt this 
chiel wie ’scapin’. Ye ’ll fine us as safe as Ailsie Craig 
gin ye come back,” said Aleck, as he made fast his 
horse and took off the bridle. 

Giving Aleck a few whispered instructions as to 
what he should do in case they did not return, Robert 
yvith the remainder of his men mounted and retraced 
their steps toward the doctor’s plantation. Riding 
past it about a mile, they discovered, back from the 
road about two hundred yards, a large house, which 
Robert judged rightly was the place where Colonel 
Wharton was billeted for the night. Turning into a 
lane some distance before reaching the house, he dis- 
mounted the men, and ordering them to standby their 
horses, he and Gaines walked cautiously back to the 
end of the lane, which terminated in an inclosure 
surrounded by those adjuncts to every southern plan- 
tation, viz., negro quarters. They aroused the occu- 
pants of the nearest hut without any alarm, for a negro 
soon made his appearance at the door, and asked what 
the gentlemen wanted. 

“Uncle, can you tell me who lives here?” asked 
Robert of the black man, who, half awake, was en- 
deavoring to fasten his braces. 

“ Mauss King libs heah, sah,” said the black man > 
giving his pants an adjusting hitch. 

“ Are there any strangers in the house to-night, 
uncle ?” 

“ Strangers I ” ejaculated the negro, “’Fore heaben, 


344 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


mausser, dar ’s nothin’ else. Over dar, ’bout de galry, 
reckon dar’s mor’n a hunderd. Corn’d from Texas.” 

“ Do you know the names of any of them?” asked 
Eobert. 

“’Deed I doesn’t, mausser, but my ole woman 
knows — she cooks up at de house.” 

‘‘Do n’t make a noise, but tell her I want to see 
her,” said Eobert, who became a little alarmed at the 
barking of a half dozen curs, such as are always to be 
found around negro quarters. 

“Hush these dogs, uncle, quick. Here’s five dol- 
lars. That ’s right. This is your wife?” said Eobert 
as a stout-looking negro woman came to the door. 

“ Why, bress de Lor, who is yeh ’tany rate?” said 
the woman in surprise. 

“Hush, aunty — don’t be frightened — I am a 
Yankee.” 

“ You ’s a Yankee? ’Clar toheaben, yehskeer me,” 
said the black woman in a tone that showed she was 
certainly astonished. 

“ Yes, aunty, and in a short time we are coming to 
set you all free. Now tell me, are there any soldiers 
over at the house ? ” 

The woman seemed to be convinced of Eobert’ s 
character by his earnest, hurried tone, and lowering 
her voice into a whisper, she puffed out as if the sup- 
pression of her natural tones gave her shortness of 
breath : 

“ Dar ’s right smart sojers oberdar, shuah,” pointing 
to the house. “ Fust two corn’d ; one mauss called 
kernul an de udder boss, or caupling, or like dat. Den 
arter supper iror ’n fifty corn’d, and fas’en’ddar hosses 
in de yar’. Dey’s a sleepin’ on de galry. I knows 


EPISTOLARY COMPLIMENTS. 


34 & 


dar ’s a heap on ’em, kase I cooked for ’em, an’ 0 Lor’ ! 
but dey was hungry. Jest kep’ us a totin’ coffee an’ 
bacon an’ dodgers till I thought dey neber would stop.” 

“ That is all right, aunty — here is some money for 
you. Now tell me where I can find the horses — and 
you, uncle, come with me. But, stop,” said Kobert, 
as if a new thought struck him, “ aunty, do you know 
where the man they called ‘colonel’ sleeps, and 
where his saddle and saddle-bags are?” 

“ Yas, I does, mauss, but if yer a Yank keep clar. 
I tell yeh dey ’ve heaps o’ guns.” 

“ I know, aunty, but I am fighting for the colored 
people and the Union, and the colored people should 
help me. There are too many men over there for me 
to attack, but I must have the colonel’s saddle and 
saddle-bags, even if I get shot trying. Now some of 
your people know where they are. I will give one 
hundred dollars for them.” 

“ I reckon Steve kin git ’em. Bob, call Steve,” said 
the. black woman, addressing her husband. 

The man left and returned in a few minutes with a 
black boy, to whom Bobert expressed his wishes. 
Steve announced his willingness to get the desired 
articles, for the temptation was very great in a mon- 
etary point of view. Entering the cabin and closing 
the door, Bobert asked the man to rake up the coals ; 
then taking a blank book from his pocket he wrote : 

“Colonel Wharton: To-night I came close 
enough to have shot you, but it would have been very 
mean to change your mode of sleeping. I will 
borrow your horse and equipments, and when you 
come for them I promise you a warm reception. In- 
deed, if you had not been in such good company I 


346 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


would have insisted on taking you with me to-night. 
I can only make this clear by signing myself, 
“Hastily yours, Robert Warren, 

“ Captain U. S. Pols” 

“ Steve, are Wharton’s saddle-bags in his room ?” 

“No, mauss; dey ’s in de hall,” said Steve. 

“ V ery well. Who takes him coffee in the morning ?” 

“ Ret does, sah.” 

“Now, Steve, give this to Bet, with this five-dollar 
bill, and tell her to leave the note on Wharton’s dress- 
ing stand.” 

“ I will, sah, shuah,” said Steve. 

“Now be quick, and bring me the saddle and sad- 
dle-bags. Make two trips. Lay them at the door 
if I am not here when you come back. And, Steve, 
bring the colonel’s sword if you can. I will pay extra 
for that.” Steve agreed to this ; indeed he felt in the 
humor for stealing, and appeared to appreciate the 
whole affair. 

While Steve went to the house, Robert sent the 
man for Wharton’s horse, and he -and Gaines made 
.juick work cutting the halters of the animals fastened 
around the yard, and rendering useless the saddles 
that were straddled about on the fence. 

They got back and found Wharton’s horse saddled 
at the door. 

“Now, Gaines, get back and mount yourself and 
the men.” 

Gaines hurried back with a soft, quick step, and 
Robert adjusted the saddle and strapped to the pum- 
mel the colonel’s sword. Assuring himself that all 
the equipments were right, he vaulted into the saddle 
and started down the lane. He had to pass nearer to 





THE ALARM. 


347 


the house than the cabins were, and the horse seemed 
opposed to leaving his companions, for he gave a neigh 
when near the house that sounded like a locomotive 
whistle. The noise awoke some of the Rangers, for 
one jumped up and shouted : 

“ Who goes thar?” 

“ Friends,” came the answer in a strong voice, as 
Robert walked his horse down the lane. 

“ What’s yer name?” asked the Ranger. 

“ Addison,” said the rider. 

“ Come back, lieutenant. The colonel sent for yeh. 
He ’s mad as blazes. Come back.” 

Still the horseman kept on, and the neighing of his 
horse was answered by the sympathetic neighing of 
the horses of the scouts. 

“ By hell, boys, that ain’t Addison. Yanks ! 
Yanks ! Yanks !” rang from a score of voices, and the 
Rangers sprang for their arms, and fired at random 
in the direction of the scouts. 

“ Get your horses,” shouted Wharton from an upper 
window. “ Quick, men !” Lights flashed through 
the house, shouts and orders rang out in wild confu- 
sion, which was increased by the galloping of the 
loosened and now stampeded animals. 

They were too late. Back toward the swamp the 
scouts galloped, Don keeping close to Robert’s fresh 
horse, his fine ears laid back as at times he jealously 
snapped at Wharton’s charger. 

Little Ned was on the road near the place where 
the prisoners were concealed, and prevented the scouts 
riding past in the darkness. 

“ Rest your horses here a few minutes, men,” said 
Robert, as he dismounted and hurried into the swamp. 


348 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ Saddle up here. Come, prisoners, mount.” In 
ten minutes all were again on the road, the prisoners 
closely guarded, and the sound of the pursuing horse- 
men coming up the road. 

“ T say, Cap.,” said Tennessee, riding close to Rob- 
ert when they were again on the road, “ we could lick 
thunder out of them fellers wat \s chasin’ us, if ye ’d 
only give us a chance. Dogon’d if I ain’t half spilin’ 
fur a fight.” 

“ I should like to give them a brnsh, Tennessee, but 
we must run no risks. Some other time we can afford 
to stand.’ ’ 

Tennessee acquiesced, though he muttered at times, 
as he restrained Wharton’s horse, on which he was now 
mounted, “ Dogon’d if I ain’t jest shuah we could 
rile them fellers awful.” 

Gradually the sounds of the Rangers behind were 
lost, and till daylight the scouts kept on, when they 
were well beyond the danger of immediate pursuit. 
They halted near a small plantation, where 'they had 
the horses fed and procured a breakfast for the men. 

The prisoners were not well mounted, and Robert 
deemed it imprudent to attempt taking them thiough. 
When he was again ready to start, he called them to- 
gether, and, addressing Addison, he told him Ire would 
let him and his companions return with their animals. 
He would not impose a parole he did not expect them 
to keep, so he would not be astonished to meet them 
in arms soon again. 

Addison was depressed and gloomy, and in parting 
said : “Robert Warren, you will find some day I am 
not so bad as you think.” 

Then the scouts turned north, and with their jaded 
animals the Texans rode slowly south. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


DISASTERS. 

The spring of ’62 was most disastrous to the 
Confederates, and many of the southern people felt 
the war was nearing an end. On the eastern coast 
the Federal troops were successful. In Virginia, un- 
der an idolized general the grandest army ever seen 
on the American continent, confident of victory, was 
marching upon Richmond. In Kentucky and Ten- 
nessee the Confederates lost ground in every battle, 
and beyond the Mississippi the hordes of Price and 
Van Dorn were driven into Arkansas and beaten to 
pieces on their chosen battle grounds. Already the 
shouts of victory rang through the North, and the 
advocates of Union exulted in the approaching close 
of the war. How wonderfully all changed. One 
week in June saw the boasted Army of the Potomac 
a broken, disorganized mob, fleeing from an attack on 
the Confederate capital to the defense of its own 
The same time saw Price’s late army pushing tri- 
umphantly into Missouri, with a rabble fleeing before 
it ; while the lately-routed Bragg, at the head of 
seventy thousand men, ignoring Grant at Corinth and 
Iuka, pushed boldly into Kentucky, boasting that he 
would not rest till his horses watered in the broad 
Ohio — and he made that boast good. In vain, on 
nearly parallel roads, did Buell struggle on to head 
30 


350 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


him off. Kentucky, with her rich harvests, her splen- 
did stock, and abundance of men, courted the rebel 
approach, and welcomed the invasion with shouts of 
joy and an open hospitality. The clouds hung black 
over the land in that terrible summer of ’62. 

Warren with his scouts accompanied Buell’s army 
north, though all had lost that fire which rendered no 
labor tiresome as they pushed south. By September 
the Union Army under Buell was back in Kentucky. 
There they found Kirby Smith and John Morgan rid- 
ing rough-shod through the State, and the stronghold 
of Cumberland Gap given up to the foe. Small gar- 
risons of Union troops were left unprotected through 
the State, and one by one they surrendered to the 
enemy. That was a fearful race between Buell and 
Bragg. The dust from the hostile columns could be 
seen daily, and at night the camp-fires were visible 
from each line. Day by day the race continued. The 
Union troops begged to be led against the rebels, but, 
for reasons best known to himself, Buell avoided the 
possibility of battle. Discontent and disappointment 
pervaded the Union ranks. The men cursed the 
commanding general openly, and stories were circu- 
lated that Buell and Bragg were brothers-in-law, and 
that they often met between the lines and slept to- 
gether. Of course there was no truth in this, but it 
served to show the feeling of distrust and spirit of 
disaffection among the men, and the reasons they 
found to account for Buell’s apparent indifference. 

There was a feeling of relief, not only in the Union 
Army, but throughout the nation, when Buell entered 
Louisville, though pursued by Bragg’s cavalry. The 
Kentuckians who sided with the South were not un- 


THE NORTH TO THE RESCUE. 


351 


selfish in their devotion to the Confederacy, and they 
shrank from the terms of Bragg’s proclamation, which 
called on the young men of the State to join his army 
in order to avoid conscription. At the same time he 
made Confederate money a legal tender for all pur- 
chases, and confiscated with barbarous injustice the 
movable property of all Union men. The rebel cit- 
izens of Kentucky were only reconciled to this state 
of affairs by the belief that the Confederate troops 
were a fixture for the war, and that they had seen 
the last of the Yankees. Indeed, so confident were 
they of the permanency of southern rule that they 
determined to inaugurate a governor of Bragg’s nam- 
ing, and a neat old man named Haws was found 
willing to accept the position. 

At this time Lincoln’s call for more men went 
through the land, and, like the call of Roderick Bhu, 
it was answered as if the earth teemed with men, 
and Louisville speedily became a grand camp, into 
which poured the noblest men of the Northwest. 
Buell was preparing to turn south again and face the 
rebels with his increased and rested army. A few 
days before the advance, Captain Kelton sent Robert 
a letter which he informed him had been found in 
Wharton’s saddle-bags, and, as it alluded to Warren, 
the captain doubted not it would be of interest. 

Robert hastened to his quarters the moment he re- 
ceived the letter, and turning to the superscription, 
he read the name of “ William Wallace Gasting, Con- 
federate States Receiver.” He dreaded to begin the 
letter, for he felt it contained another blow ; but it 
had to come some time, so he read : 


352 


WARREN OF TEXAS 


“Brazoria, April 1 , 1862 . 

“ Hon. Jno. Wharton, Col. Eighth Texas Cavalry , 

{Gen. A. Sidney Johnston’s Army :) 

“ My Dear Sir : You will, I am sur.e, pardon me for 
troubling you at this time, and attribute this intrusion 
to my desire to keep you posted on public matter^ in 
this State, which you are destined to govern, as I feel 
confident you will be elected as soon as you return. 
It would certainly cheer your hours of trial and danger 
did you but hear the unrestrained and well-deserved 
praise lavished on you by all the people. 

“ It is pleasant to know that the disaffection which 
at one time threatened the integrity of “ the Lone Star 
State” has been effectually crushed out, and a 
healthier patriotic feeling pervades all classes. 

“You no doubt remember the Warrens, of Gronzel- 
letta? The course of this unfortunate family has 
given us no small degree of trouble. After the death 
of Robert Warren, senior, it was my principal duty to 
sell his property, which was purchased by your ardent 
admirer, the elder Mr. Townsend. 

“ Miss Mary Warren foolishly started from here, to 
find her brother, last fall. By the way, I am given to 
understand that he escaped drowning. Let us hope he 
is to meet with a more deserved and more ignoble fate. 
Miss Warren was captured in Tennessee, through the 
vigilance of young Townsend, who happened to be at 
Nashville as she* attempted to pass through. This 
young woman was imprisoned, and a search disclosed 
letters on her person of great importance to the Con- 
federacy. One of these letters, written by Mrs. 
Boardman, was forwarded to me. It showed clearly 
her character and sympathy with the Yankees. Act 


A CRUEL BLOW. 


353 


ing on the evidence therein contained, it became my 
duty to seize and sell her place, which was purchased 
by that excellent gentleman and mutual friend of ours, 
Mr. Church, of Matagorda. It is said that Mrs. Board 
man and her family have gone north. Certain it is, 
they have added to the harmony of the community 
by leaving here. 

“ These measures seem harsh, but they have enabled 
us non-combatants to eradicate every disloyal ele- 
ment in our midst. I maintain there is more to dread 
from internal discord than outside strife. 

“We all learned with pain of the loss of the gallant 
Terry, but rejoice that one so brave as Wharton suc- 
ceeds him. My wife has your name ever on her lips, 
and has written a poem in your praise, which she begs 
me to inclose. We are daily praying that God may 
specially guard you and speedily return you victories. 
An honor will be conferred if at any time you deign 
to drop a line to, 

“ Very respectfully, your obedient servant, 

“William Wallace Gasting, 

“ Confederate States Receiver / 

Robert read this letter over hastily with a throb- 
bing heart, then slowly, as if he had misunderstood it, 
and doubted the evidence of his own senses. Grad- 
ually he saw the whole terrible truth, and, crushed 
’neath the blow, he dropped his head in his hands and 
groaned in very agony. While he sat, bowed, he be- 
came conscious of another presence in the room, and, 
lifting up his ashy face, he saw Archy looking down 
on him with an expression of sorrow and pity. 

“ Wat ’s w rong, Mauss Robut? Nothin 7 1 kin do fur 
yell?” 


30 * 


354 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“Nothing, nothing, Archy. Gracious Heaven, I 
feel as if my heart would break ! ” 

Then he read and explained Gasting’s letter to 
Archy. 

“De Lor ’ll watch ober all, Mauss Eobut. Poor 
Susey an’ de pickaninnies ! I s’pose ole Townsend ’s 
got dem too. Don’t trubble, don’t trubble, poor 
mauss.” And as Archy spoke he staggered to a seat, 
and sobbed like a child as he repeated, “Please 
do n’t trubble, Mauss Eobut. De Lor’ will watch ober 
all. Poor Susey an’ de pickaninnies ! 0 Lor’, what ’ll 
dey do now? Dat ’s what ’noys me.” 

For several minutes both men sat, struck down with 
grief. Eobert was the first to recover. 

“ There, Archy, my poor boy, look up. It is not 
right for us to give way in this manner. That’s right, 
do n’t cry any more. Go for Gaines. Poor fellow, they 
don’t mention his wife, but I suppose she is a sufferer 
too.” 

Archy rose, uttering between his sobs words of con- 
solation to Eobert, his fears for Susey and the little 
ones, and his confidence that the Lord would see 
everything made right. 

Gaines, learning that Eobert wanted him, and read- 
ing trouble in Archy’s face, hurried at once to his 
captain’s quarters. He read Gasting’s letter, and 
heard Eobert’ s comments; then he said slowly, with- 
out raising his eyes from the ground : 

“ Eobert, the night we left Brazoria I made up 
my mind that home, life, and what is still dearer to 
me, my wife and little one, with my old mother, were 
to be given up. To hear of the loss of any of these, 
excepting of course the improbability of hearing of my 


SETTING UP A GOVERNOR. 


355 


own death, would pain, but it would not surprise me. 
I was not, and am not now so sanguine as you, but I 
have a duty to perform, and, come what may, I will 
press on to the end, whether we are successful or not.” 

“God bless you, old friend ! I feel as you do, but 
this blow came so suddenly that for the time it un- 
manned me. Henceforth, I promise you that no ca- 
lamity will deter me.” 

Robert seized Gaines’s hand as he spoke, and the 
friends knew 7 each other better. 

October 3 was the day set apart for the inauguration 
of Governor Haws, Bragg’s selection for governor. 
At Frankfort, Bragg and Buckner, Morgan and Smith, 
Cheatham and Heath, w r ith their staffs and bodyguards, 
were present. Kentucky’s bravest sons and fairest 
daughters had assembled to prepare a banquet befit- 
ting the splendid occasion of the inauguration. Trium- 
phal arches, portals wreathed, and streets crossed with 
barred flags gave a festive appearance to the flat, se- 
cluded streets of Kentucky’s capital. On the hills 
that overshadow the little town artillery was stationed 
to thunder out a salute to the State-rights governor 
the moment he became invested with power. Bouquets 
were prepared at the State House and hotels, and pri- 
vate residences were thrown open to the victorious 
southern soldiers. Frankfort was full of life, flowers, 
and gay uniforms. Music and incense intoxicated 
the vast assemblage like the host that gathered at the 
board of the Babylonian king, and everything denoted 
permanency to the new 7 governor and his cause. 

The Union troops were advancing, and on October 
the 2d Captain Robert Warren received an order to 
march in the direction of Frankfort, distant thirty 


356 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


m les, and feel or ascertain the enemy's force. They 
advanced that evening within six miles of Frankfort, 
and were astonished at finding no vedettes nor out- 
posts of any kind. The captain wisely went into 
camp for the night, sending old Dawn, Aleck Cameron, 
and Tennessee into the town to ascertain the state of 
affairs. It is not a difficult job for a good scout to 
pass lines that are well guarded ; it was particularly 
easy for the three men to enter the unpicketed town. 
About midnight the scout returned, reporting the town 
in charge of a small provost guard, while the most 
ample preparations were being made by the citizens 
for the reception of the Confederate generals and the. 
inauguration of the governor. 

Tennessee went into raptures over the grand feed 
that was being prepared in town. 

“ Why, Cap., Arcliy ain’t no whar. He can ’t begin 
to get up a shadder like the grub I saw. By the ghost 
of old Andrew, Cap., if we Tins could get in thar 
it ’ed be the healthiest joke. Would n’t we make the 
provender fly! Wall, now, I reckon not,” and Ten- 
nessee smacked his lips and laughed with boyish de- 
light at the idea he had suggested, but which had 
already been matured in the mind of the captain. 

Robert smiled, for even the quiet Aleck Cameron 
was excited, and the old light came back to his sad 
eyes as he looked around on his devoted men, and felt 
that his sufferings would not go unavenged. 

Archy, who had overheard Tennessee’s criticism on 
his cooking, felt a little nettled at the bare suggestion 
of being excelled, even by the people of Frankfort, 
and he showed it by saying: 

“ Mauss Pmbut, dis chile ain’t agwine to sleep any 


“’RAH FOR MAWGIN! 


357 


more dis blessed night. An’ if Mauss Tennesse ain’t 
jest a foolin’ bout dem tings in Frankfort, why I 
reckon no one won’t want no breakfus’ in de mornin’.” 

Archy had them, in his own opinion, and the cap- 
tain said : 

“ Oh, Archy, I must have a cup of coffee, at any 
rate. You see, we are not certain about that big din- 
ner. We are not expected, and after looking at the 
place I might be inclined to think it wrong to disturb 
the people.” 

“ Gosh, dat ’s so. It might n’t be healthy like, but 
if it ’s only healthy to go thar, oh, Susey ! it ’ed jes’ 
be nice.” 

Tennessee took a heavy chew of tobacco, and inti- 
mated that it would be safe to bet a man’s bottom 
dollar on the niceness of the affair, quoting Archy in 
conclusion, “ If it ’s only healthy. That ’ar ’s the pint 
in my mind.” 

Before day the scouts were in the saddle, and by 
sunrise they had crossed to the Lawrenceburg pike 
When within three miles of the city they came upon a 
drunken Confederate soldier lying in a fence corner. 
One of the men dismounted and shook him up. 

“Hallo! relief come, eh? Damn glad; got so 
tired waitin’.” Here the soldier showed a disposi- 
tion to get down on his hands and knees and search 
for something. He was stopped in his efforts, when, 
with a groan of sorrow, he said : 

“Sure ’s hell, some skunk’s stole that ar’ canteen. 
Whoever the onory cuss was, he jes’ went through some 
of the bes’ Bourbon. Bully for sight ; jes’ can’t see a 
Yank with that stuff inside. ’Bah for Mawgin.” 

“Wake up, ole fel, an’ salute yer nat’ral-born 


358 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


frien’s,” said Tennessee, shaking the drunken man, 
who showed symptoms in his lower limbs of collapsing. 

The Confederate rubbed his eyes as if awaking from 
a sleep, and, spreading out his legs to support him- 
self, he seized a rail to make his position more secure, 
and, evidently sobered, he drew a long breath, and with 
a sudden explosion he said : 

“ I swar to Heaven, I believe I ’m bagged.” 

“For a man that ain’t descended from the prophets 
you have made a most truthful surmise,” said Aleck 
Cameron in his broad Scotch accent, while his gray 
eyes were glancing around for the missing canteen. 

“What regiment do you belong to?” asked the 
captain. 

“ Scott’s Cavalry, a-fightin’ for the sunny South, by 
thunder ! ” said the prisoner, with a somewhat defiant 
and surly tone. 

“Where is your command?” 

“Dunno,” replied the prisoner; “but I reckon 
they’re out Yank huntin’. The boys is spilin’ for a 
fight.” 

Some of the men laughed at this remark, when the 
prisoner added : 

“Wall, if you Yanks don’t b’lieve I’m tellin’ the 
truth, jes’ hunt up Scott’s Cavalry an’ ask ’em.” 

There was nothing to be made out of this fellow, 
so Warren pushed still closer to Frankfort. The 
forenoon was occupied in examining carefully the 
valley in which the town of Frankfort is situated. 
Strange as it may seem, there was not a soldier in 
sight, and nearly all the white people had crowded 
into the town. On the hill overlooking the town, west 
from the Louisville pike, the scouts were drawn up in 


FRANKFORT RECAPTURED. 


359 


full view of the crowds below. Their advent evi- 
dently created alarm, for up the opposite hill, in the 
direction of Lexington, carriages and mounted men 
were seen to pour in wild haste. They evidently con- 
sidered the cavalry the advance of the Union Army. 
A few pieces of artillery, intended to fire salutes, be- 
gan to fire in the direction of the scouts, and this in 
an instant decided Captain Warren. Sending Gaines 
down the hill, with directions to charge into the town, 
in the direction of the court-house, the captain with 
the remainder of the men rode into the valley from 
the right, and crossing the bridge a minute after 
Gaines, the bugle sounded the charge, and the colors 
were unfurled. Down through the streets, past crowds 
of pale, frightened people, and by houses decked with 
flowers, and under canopies of rebel flags the Union 
cavalry dashed. There was a short resistance near 
the State House, but the rebels showed no disposition 
to fight in the crowded town. Almost as quickly as 
it takes to tell it, the streets were deserted save by 
the scouts and a few drunken soldiers, who could not 
join in the retreat. The captain did not like to show 
his full force by pursuing. He had not been in town 
ten minutes before the old flag floated from the State 
House ; and over many of the buildings that a short 
time before floated the stars and bars the Stars and 
Stripes were waving. So quickly men change. There 
was feasting in Frankfort that day, and in many hearts 
besides those of Warren and his men there was rejoic- 
ing, too. Though the smiles of misled beauty did 
not beam on the banquet board, their absence did not 
detract from the relish with which the governor’s din- 
ner was eaten. 


SCO 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


There were laughter and jest at the table and loud 
praise of the immortal cooks. Archy was ordered to 
hide his diminished head forever, which he proceeded 
to do in a huge veal pie. Tennessee and his brother, 
little Ned, who was always near him, ate with aston- 
ishing relish and energy. 

“Boys,” said the former, with his mouth filled with 
roast beef and jelly, “ lay in enough for the campaign, 
for if yeh do n’t eat enough now, mark my words 
you ’ll all be sorry bimeby.” 

This prudent advice was not needed, though the 
men, at the captain’s request, abstained from the 
liquors, which they found in abundance. This was a 
piece of self-denial which only an old soldier can 
appreciate. 

That afternoon, with wreaths around their horses* 
necks and a score of rebel flags trailing behind them, 
the scouts fell back to the hill and left Frankfort to 
ponder over its short-lived glory. 


JHAPTER XXXII. 


TRIALS OF THE CAMPAIGN. 

The day after the flight of the Confederate gover- 
nor from Frankfort, the town was occupied by a brig- 
ade of Union infantry, and Captain Robert Warren re- 
ceived orders to report to General Jackson, who was 
advancing from the direction of Bardstown. 

The weather was intensely hot, and the roads ankle 
deep with light limestone dust, which the slightest 
agitation raised into stifling clouds, that covered men 
and horses, and in many cases obstructed the vision 
beyond the rank in front. To add to the difficulty of 
moving troops in Kentucky at this time, the long-con- 
tinued drought had dried up the springs, and the 
streams, usually so abundant in that State, presented 
dry beds, with here and there a stagnant pool of green, 
animated water. This campaign tried to the utmost 
the powers of endurance of the old troops, and it was 
particularly hard on the recruits who joined Buell at 
Louisville. Many of those men had not been six days 
in the service when the pursuit of Bragg began. It 
is safe to say that the men who entered the Army in 
’62 were, as a class, the best men, physically, of 
the w r ar, but, like all green soldiers, they began the 
campaign with knapsacks filled like a peddler’s pack, 
and with as useless a variety of articles. Clothing, 
toilet articles, stationery, books, photographic albums, 
31 


362 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


and, in some cases, pillows and umbrellas, constituted 
the outfit of men who afterward felt equipped with a 
blanket, a coffee cup, and a section of shelter tent. 
Add to the great load of these personal effects the 
arms, ammunition, and equipments necessary for a 
soldier, and the unmilitary reader will have some idea 
of the loads carried by the majority of the “’62 ” re- 
cruits. Ten pounds carried in one position all day, 
under a hot sun, becomes very heavy toward night. 
Sixty pounds becomes a very incubus, and he must be 
a determined fellow who enters camp after his first 
march of twenty-five miles with as big a load as he 
had when he started. It takes time to acquire the 
knack of marching in an Army shoe — the most com- 
fortable foot-covering in the world, by the way, for a 
long tramp. The recruits had not this knack, so their 
feet blistered, their agony became intense, their efforts 
to keep up failed, and their initiation in war was ter- 
rible ; indeed, more so than the first thunder of op- 
posing cannon, for men thought only about fighting 
beforefore leaving home, never about long marches 
without water or fo d, and a sleep in the open air. It 
was curious to notice the articles that strewed the 
road along the line of march. At first, extra boots, 
blankets, books, albums with the valued pictures re- 
moved ; sometimes whole knapsacks cast aside in dis- 
gust, and shoes thrown off from blistered feet; some- 
times, but rarely, cartridge-boxes and body-belts could 
be found on the line of march, and the articles dropped 
could be accepted as a fair criterion of the degree of 
fatigue of the owner. 

East of Bardstown, Captain Warren reported to 
General Jackson, who, with his green troops, was on 


THE ROSE-WATER POLICY. 


303 


the extreme left of the Union advance. Here he met 
his cousin, Allen, now a major on the general’s staff. 
They had been parted for some months, and they had 
an abundance of news to exchange. Russell was acting 
then as an aid to General Polk, whose army was re- 
ported to be at Harrodsburg. General Bragg, Allen 
learned, had taken the best stock off his father’s 
plantation, despite the old gentleman’s proti stations 
and his plea that he had a son in the Southern army. 
The secessionists* of Kentucky were very muck 
troubled over Bragg’s retreat, for they began to learn 
the motives that brought him into the State, viz., 
forage, clothing, and recruits, but their greatest dread 
was the retaliation they expected from the Union 
Army. Robert regretted to find that his cousin en- 
tertained the same opinion of General Buell as that 
held by the men in the ranks. 

‘• There is nothing more -certain,” said the major, 
“ than that it is now in our power, with one hundred 
thousand well-armed men in this army, to prevent 
the retreat of the enemy, and to completely destroy 
him ; but I am satisfied that this campaign will be a 
miserable failure.” 

“I am sorry to hear you talk so, for men have no 
'heart in a work that they are 1 jd to believe will not 
be successful,” said Robert. 

“You misunderstand me, cousin. Our officers 
hardly speak their fears to theii most intimate friends, 
^yet you can absolutely feel the spirit of dissatisfact 
tion when among the men,” said Allen, earnestly. 
Then, after a pause, he continued : “ It is about 

time this war was conducted without gloves. I must 
acknowledge that the tendency of our commanding 


864 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


officer to conciliate the rebels who are armed against us 
sickens one. While Bragg and Morgan are stealing, 
or rather openly taking everything that may be of 
use to them from Union men, our troops are half the 
time guarding rebel property, and during this cam- 
paign our boys have suffered for water while their 
comrades were guarding wells within sight on rebel 
plantations.” 

“ Allen, I can appreciate your feelings in this mat- 
ter,” said Robert. “ I remember when we were in 
Tennessee last spring, the general issued an order 
against burning fence-rails. Though I never could 
blame troops if, after a fatiguing march, they pre- 
ferred dry rails to green wood for their camp-hres. 
Of course the order was a dead letter, and the general 
modified it by one of the most absurd amendments — 
he permitted the men to burn the top rails only . Of 
course there was always a top rail, and while the 
order was cheerfully obeyed, the fences, as you know, 
on the line of march were more thoroughly destroyed 
than before any order had been issued. Some lawyer 
on the general’s staff pointed out the weak parts in 
the top-rail order, and it was altered in a way that 
made even the most stupid of the men chuckle with 
delight.” 

“ Oh, yes ! I remember that last order,” said Allen, 
“it was that the troops should only burn those rails 
they found broken on the ground. Why, we used to 
break rails for the Seventh Pennsylvania Cavalry,* 
and they kindly did the same thing for us. We 
did n’t suffer for broken rails found on the ground. 
Why, the men interpreted that order so fine, after a 
while, that one man would do the breaking while 


BEFORE TIIE BATTLE. 


365 


another carried the fragments away. If the whole 
affair was not an evidence of our weakness, it would 
be extremely laughable. 

During the two following days McCook’s corps^ 
under a scorching sun, was moved rapidly in the di- 
rection of the enemy, who had his main rendezvous 
at Camp Breckinridge, on Dick River. This was the 
same place as the Union “Camp Dick Robinson,” a 
few miles northeast of Danville. On the evening of 
the 7th, Jackson’s division reached Maxville, a little 
town about ten miles from Harrodsburg, and on the 
direct road to that place. 

During the day there had been a good deal of 
skirmishing between the cavalry on both sides, and 
Robert, who had been all day in the advance of the 
division, felt that the enemy would make a stand on 
the following morning. 

General Polk’s army, it was ascertained, held Per- 
ry ville and the line of hills to the east and north, 
which covered the water in Chaplin Creek. McCook 
did not anticipate a severe fight, but with a great 
deal of caution he formed his men on the irregular, 
broken hills, west of the rebel position. During the 
night Jackson closed up, with Rousseau on his right, 
and beyond him came the splendid divisions of 
Mitchell and Sheridan, stretching away for four miles 
toward the miserable little village of Perryville. 

Two hours before day the moon was shining with a 
wonderful brilliancy on the dry hills and shimmering 
on the stagnant pools in the creek, on which the 
Union troops gazed with longing eyes. 

Despite the fact that the slopes were covered with 
timber, the movements of the advanced troops 
31 * 


366 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


either side could be distinctly seen — the arms of 
the watchful pickets gleaming, and the long rows of 
steel flashing as the regiments went into position. 

In the Union Army there were fifteen thousand 
men who had never been under fire, and now, after 
their fearful march, they stood face to face with the 
foe, waiting with thrilling hearts and pale faces for 
the battle to begin. What moments of anguish and 
trial those preparations for battle are to old soldiers 
in broad daylight ! How terribly they try fresh 
troops in the early hours, before the sun has risen, 
when every ravine reminds them of the valley of 
death, and mingling thoughts of distant homes and 
present dangers unstring the strongest nerves, and 
for the time unman the bravest soldiers. It was the 
first time the Eighty-fifth Illinois was ever in battle, yet 
one hour before day they advanced on the skirmish 
line close up to the enemy. Down the Chaplin valley 
and up the opposite hill, now lost in the black shadows, 
and again out in the full light of the moon they 
marched. Suddenly, as if a volcano had opened at 
their feet, the rebel artillery belched into their line, 
and a brigade rose from the shadows and poured a 
murderous volley into the regiment, which still pushed 
on. Not, however, as before, with regular step at 
skirmish intervals, but closing up and with springing 
bounds and ringing cheers that echoed down the dry 
valley, and were caught up by Jackson’s untried men. 
The Eighty-fifth with leveled bayonets struck the en- 
emy and drove him in confusion from his position. 
Under the protection of Barnett’s battery the heroic 
Illinoisans held their position, though the enemy made 
several desperate efforts to recover the lost ground 
before daylight. 


TILE LINES ENGAGED. 


307 


Tn the meantime the enemy’s right was extended 
opposite to Jackson’s division, and the booming of 
artillery and the unsteady rattle and roll of musketry 
became general along the line. About 7 a. m. 
General Gay, Buell’s chief of cavalry, who had 
come upon the ground, ordered Bober t Warren’s 
company to Bousseau’s right, where the Second 
Missouri, Second Michigan, and Ninth Pennsylva- 
nia cavalry regiments were advanced dismounted. 
Colonel Campbell, of Michigan, was ordered to charge 
and check the enemy, who had crossed the Chaplin 
and were pushing back Mitchell’s left. The cavalry 
attacked with a wonderful elan , but before the heavy 
masses of the enemy they were hurled back. To the 
rear of the cavalry Hotchkiss, of Minnesota, quickly 
unlimbered his guns and checked the rebel onset. 
Then the leveled carbines began their work ; and 
Pat Colburn’s crack division halted, became confused, 
turned, and then in the wildest confusion ran back, 
pursued by the cavalry up the hill, who captured them 
by scores on the*very line of battle from which they 
had so confidently advanced. By 10 a. m. the fire 
slackened along the line, and the enemy appeared to 
be receiving re-enforcements. The sun shone down 
with a hot, coppery glare on the thirsting lines and 
parched earth, and with longing eyes from opposite hills 
the rebels and Yankees gazed down on the coveted 
water, some of the pools already filled with the dead 
and dying, who had dragged themselves there to cool 
their parched lips. Sheridan, posted on a command- 
ing hill, received the next attack, Loomis and Simon- 
ton with tkeir veteran batteries in his front. The 
hill seemed one pyramid of smoke and flame as the 


368 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


rebels came, and the dry earth seemed turned to 
clouds of dust, which enveloped Sheridan and Hardee 
in the terrible struggle. The rebel batteries worked 
with awful effect upon Sheridan’s lines, and for one- 
half hour it was difficult to distinguish the contending 
lines. Mitchell and Gilbert closed in the reserve, and 
down in the valley about the stagnant pools the battle 
was waged, friend and foe stooping to drink at the 
same moment, then leaping together to the encounter. 
Such a struggle could not last long. It was beyond 
the power of human endurance, and after one- half 
hour the panting divisions disentangled, and Sheridan 
slowly fell back to his hill of fire, while Hardee with- 
drew his bleeding column. In the meantime the 
thunder of battle from the left drowned all other 
sounds, and down the line came the rumor that Jack- 
son was being overpowered. Robert Warren was re- 
called to the left, and on reaching there he learned 
from Allen, who was wounded in the arm, that the 
gallant Jackson was dead. The rebels had gradually 
contracted their line, abandoning the village of Perry- 
ville, and massed in overpowering numbers on Jack- 
son’s front. This they could more easily do as their 
front was densely wooded. Before this the new troops 
in Jackson’s division had fought with a valor that 
would have shed glory on the veterans of Donelson, 
Pea Ridge, and Shiloh, who fought there. Now came 
the hour of their greatest trial. With fiendish yells, 
that curdled the blood in the heart of the bravest, the 
rebels under General Buckner rushed down upon 
Jackson’s weakened line. The cool head and brave 
heart of the nobler leader were forever gone. Though 
in that hour of trial Jackson was sorely needed, yet 


BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER. 


369 


the men never flinched. The Tenth Wisconsin, though 
reduced in this their first battle nearly one-half, took 
the brunt of the charge, and was literally crumbled 
to pieces in the repeated onsets. Stone, of Ken- 
tucky, and Parsons and Harris worked their batteries 
as men never worked before, but all in vain ; the rebels 
still gained ground. Terrell and Webster soon fol- 
lowed Jackson ; Parsons was captured, the One Hun- 
dred and Fifth Ohio, Twenty-first Wisconsin, and 
Eightieth Illinois were doubled up and hurled back 
before the mad onset of Buckner. The rebel Ken- 
tuckians were fighting, and on that part of the line 
ihree thousand loyal Kentuckians opposed them. 
Allen Warren did not leave the field, though he car- 
ried his arm in a sling. As the rebel charge swept 
round the extreme left, he was on that part of the line 
with his cousin’s command, all dismounted. Captain 
Warren had lost nearly half his men. Tennessee was 
wounded, and Aleck Cameron, the brave, shrewd 
Scotch boy, was dead ; Gaines was seen to fall in the 
midst of the enemy, and only a few of the old scouts 
remained. Fifty men were gathered on the left, but 
they were heroes, and they dashed down the declivity 
near Frazer’s barn and met the enemy. In the ad- 
vance, brandishing his sword, came Bussell Warren. 
His hat was off and his long hair was swept back from 
his sunburned face ; he looked the very ideal of a 
brave man in a charge. Before the Union onset the 
rebels were broken and divided into groups, that ral- 
lied where the Federals were weakest. Allen War- 
ren, at the head of a few men, struck the body where 
his brother seemed the- master-spirit. The fight lasted 
but a few seconds, when the brothers crossed swords 


370 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


and Allen, in a tone of supplication and demand, 
shouted: “Russell, for the sake of Heaven, surren- 
der !” “No, by the living God!” came the reply, 
as Russell sprang back and with a powerful blow laid 
old Dawn bleeding on the ground. Another instant 
and a bullet from the carbine of little Ned pierced 
the heart of the brave rebel, and he fell to the ground. 

The enemy did not pursue Jackson’s division, be- 
lieving it to be completely broken. They struck 
Rousseau, and fora time that gallant division wavered ; 
but the commander was everywhere encouraging and 
directing, and under his wonderful influence the men 
seemed inspired. The Third Ohio and Forty-second 
Indiana, with Pope’s Fifteenth Kentucky, received 
the assault, and like a mighty current that strikes 
some immovable rock the rebel tide swept round to- 
ward the Tenth Ohio, under Lytle. Lytle was behind 
a crest, his men lying down, prepared to advance at a 
moment’s notice. He knew not that to his left, up a 
treacherous ravine, the enemy, six thousand strong, 
were surging. There, within sight of his friends, 
who could not aid him, he lay in ignorance of his 
approaching ruin. Men would have given their lives 
at that moment to have told the gallant Lytle of his 
danger, but there was no time. Up the ravine and 
over the crest came the rebels, down upon the heroes 
of Carnifex, who, recumbent on their faces, were in 
ignorance of the enemy. An alarm from the extreme 
right, and the Tenth sprang to their feet, the majority 
to fall again, but not as living men. Too proud to 
run, the remnant of that noble regiment, with their 
faces to the enemy, fell slowly back, leaving the 
model soldier Lytle lying beside his men. Why did 


THE BATTLE OYER. 


371 


forty thousand soldiers lie within hearing distance of 
that battle when one-half their number would have 
made it the most complete victory of the war? Buell 
can answer, perhaps. As it was, the fighting closed 
with this last onset, and the rebels in the darkness 
fell back to Ilarrodsburg. 

After Robert Warren had seen his own men at- 
tended to, in company with his cousin Allen, he sought 
out that part of the field to the left where Bussell 
was seen to fall. Major Warren hoped that his brother 
was only wounded. Past rows of dead and ’mid the 
wounded, who were crying for water, the two men 
walked, each feeling sick at heart by the losses of 
the day and the scenes around them, now that the 
battle was over. They found the body, but it was 
stiff* and cold, with the glazed eyes turned up to the 
stars and the long hair pushed back from the white 
forehead, as in that terrible charge. 

Robert was the first to speak. “ Poor Russell !” he 
said. “ He was noble and brave, and good in every- 
thing but this one idea of secession.” 

Allen had taken his brother’s cold hand in his, and 
the hot tears fell on the boyish, upturned face of the 
dead. 

“ We must take him away, Robert. It will break 
my father’s heart ; but he must see the body ; it will 
be a sad consolation. To-day the sound of the battle 
was heard in our old home. God only knows for 
which of his boys my father prayed.” As Allen 
spoke he beckoned to Archy, who accompanied him, 
and directed him to carry the body to their camp 
back on the hill. 

Near the spot where Russell fell they found little 


372 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Ned, who had stolen out of camp, with his canteen 
filled with whisky and water, to search for his grand- 
father. The old man was found still living, though 
weak from the loss of blood and affected mentally by 
the fearful gash in the side of his gray head. The 
old man recognized the voice of little Ned, and asked 
him how the battle had gone and if Jim was living. 

“ We uns have licked,” said Ned, as he took the old 
man’s head in his lap, “an’ Uncle Jim ’s shot in the 
breast. He ’s gone to hospital. Reckon, grandad, 
he’ll come out all right bimeby.” 

“An’ you, Ned, are you hurt?” asked the old man, 
as he groped about in the darkness, till his hand came 
in contact with that of Ned’s. “ They mus n’t hurt 
you, Ned, my boy ; yeh see, we uns mus’ go back to 
Tennessee again.” 

“ Dogoned if we ain’t agoin’ thar too, grandad. 
Now do n’t fuss, an’ the cap’n ’ll have yeh keered fur 
like a chile,” and Ned looked up at his captain. 

Robert stooped and talked to the old man, but he 
evidently did not recognize him, for he became some- 
what profane and imagined himself back in the 
battle again. Shortly after old Dawn was carried to 
the field-hospital, and Robert and his cousin searched 
for Gaines among the dead and wounded of both 
armies where he had fought, but in vain. The two 
hours given the captain by General Rousseau had 
expired, and he reported at once to that officer. 

Though tired with the heat and labor of the day, 
and sick at heart from the loss of his best men, 
Robert had orders awaiting him to doff his uniform 
and take such men as he desired for a scout in the 
direction of Danville and Camp Dick Robinson. 


IN THE ROLE OF REBEL RECRUITS. 


373 


The first campaign of ’61 had made him familiar 
with every foot of ground in that vicinity. The 
country was filled with bands of unorganized Ken- 
tuckians, who were hurrying out of the State, and to 
assume the character of recruits was a very easy 
matter at that time About 2 o’clock in the morning, 
after a short rest, Robert Warren went south from 
Perryville, and, after a ride of four miles, struck a 
lane or mud road that ran in the direction of Danville. 
The night was dark and black clouds veiled the moon, 
and, as usual after a battle, drenched the dry earth 
with the much-needed rain. The lane, after a mile’s 
ride, terminated in a beaten road, a short distance 
down which the scouts unexpectedly ran into a body 
of cavalry dismounted by the roadside. 

“ Hallo ! whar are yeh gvvine with them hosses ?” 
asked one of the men. 

“I’m going to Camp Breckinridge,” said Robert, 
in a disguised tone. 

“What is your regiment?” asked another, in an 
authoritative tone, as he approached Robert and laid 
his hand on his bridle. 

The voice was familiar, and in an instant Robert 
replied: “Howard Smith’s Second Kentucky.” 

“Why, sir, your regiment is at Lexington,” said 
the man at the horse’s head. 

“ I know that ; but I am ordered to report with 
thirty-five recruits to him at Camp Breckinridge. 
Would you like to see my papers, sir?” asked Robert. 

“ No ; I presume you are all right sir. What is 
your name ?” again asked the familiar voice. 

“Parrish, from Midway, sir; Lieutenant Parrish.” 

“ Oh, yes, lieutenant, I think I have met you before, 
32 


374 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


My name is Wharton — John Wharton of the Texan 

K angers.” 

With an impetuosity that startled even the impul- 
sive Wharton, Robert took off his hat, and, rising in 
his stirrups, he turned to his men and shouted : 

“With a will, boys ! Three cheers for Gewral 
Wharton and the Texas Rangers !” 

The cheers, or yells rather, which followed this 
command seemed to delight Wharton, for he raised 
his hat and courteously thanked “the men of the 
Second Kentucky 

The directions to Camp Breckinridge were given 
by Wharton, and Robert and his men, with throbbing 
hearts, rode on. The sky was inky black, and a 
hoarse, rumbling sound seemed to fill the air, as if its 
mutterings came from every point of the compass. 
On through wearied regiments, lying with their arms 
beside them ’neatli the fences and bushes, past 
miles of heavily-laden wagons standing in the road, 
with their drivers asleep on their seats, and the rest- 
less mules kicking and braying with impatience for 
the order to “move on.” Now and then an extern, 
porized hospital, like an Indian wigwam, w-ith a faint 
light within, showing the ashy, suffering faces of the 
wounded, could be seen. That whole night, from the 
field of Perry ville, with its thirsting, moaning wounded, 
to the camps on Dick River, there was presented to 
the scouts one continued panorama of the black and 
horrible side of war. Warren felt the undefined ter- 
ror of his situation increased by the scenes he passed, 
and he relied upon his men. The men felt the posi- 
tion, perhaps, more keenly, because their thoughts 
were less occupied, and they relied upon the captain. 


PLUNDERING KENTUCKY. 


375 


Many a brilliant victory would have been a terrible 
defeat were the thoughts and fears of officers and men 
known to each other, and many a defeat would have 
turned to success had the officers the same high hopes 
as the men, or the men as the officers. It is well that 
half the world is ever in. literal and figurative dark- 
ness as to the other half, and providential that the 
lights interchange. Had Buell been aware of Bragg’s 
condition immediately after the battle of Perry ville, five 
thousand well mounted cavalry would have destroyed 
all the booty the rebels were taking from Kentucky. 

Shortly after daylight the scouts reached Camp Dick 
Robinson, which they found crowded with stores and 
raw recruits, who were going out of the State with 
the rest of Bragg’s plunder. Flour, beef, pork, and 
whisky were scattered around by thousands of barrels. 
Wagons loaded with the grain, driven by the negroes, 
and drawn by the horses stolen from Union men 
were corraled about by hundreds. Quartermasters 
were busy sending off the supplies, but so blocked 
were the roads with troops that it was slow work. 
The fields adjoining the camp were covered with 
herds of the finest cattle and horses in the State, all 
waiting for an opening in the line which was march- 
ing toward Cumberland Gap. 

Strange as it may seem, Captain Warren, after re- 
porting to Colonel Moore, the officer in command of 
the camp, was not questioned or assigned to any duty. 
He and his men, however, made themselves busy load- 
ing the wagons, and Bragg would have had much more 
pork and beef and less whisky, when he reached Ten- 
nessee, had some warmer friend of the Confederacy 
been in Warren’s position. 


376 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


In the meantime Robert succeeded in getting ofl 
two men with information to General Buell of the 
rebel position and condition. 

The second day after the arrival of the scouts a 
Sody of cavalry entered the camp to destroy the 
stores and gather up the recruits who were unassigned. 
Captain Warren protested against the burning of the 
stores until they were certain no more could be got 
oft and so energetic was he in loading to the utmost 
and sending off wagons that the officer in charge 
complimented his ardor and acquiesced. After a time 
Moore insisted on firing the camp, and with the same 
earnestness Captain Warren offered to help. While 
the flames went up from piles of stores the sound of 
firing came in from the direction of Danville. By 
twos, threes, and dozens, as the firing increased, the 
rebels left the blazing camp, till barely one hundred 
men, under Moore, remained, and these were hard at 
work, utterly ignorant that their arms had gone off in 
a wagon that left camp. The time had come to make 
himself known, and at a signal Captain Warren and 
his men gathered on the Danville entrance to the 
camp, and, fastened to a saber, they displayed the 
Stars and Stripes. Moore, who was a thoroughly brave 
man, saw it, and called on his men to mount and 
charge. Charge they did, without arms and through 
a line of fire, past which Moore succeeded in getting 
with a few of his men. The rest retreated into camp 
and surrendered. Leaving a few men to save all the 
property they could and to guard the prisoners, the 
captain followed up the line of retreat, gathering up 
scores of drunken men and stragglers, who were vainly 
trying to follow the retreating line. Robert knew 


SAFE RETURN. 


877 


that the rebel rear was guarded by reliable troops 
that bad not yet passed, so he wisely fell back toward 
Camp Dick Robinson with his prisoners, where be 
found the cavalry of Buell’s advance. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE LOST SISTER. 

Captain Robert Warren was openly thanked by the 
general commanding for his conduct at Perryville and 
daring the pursuit to Camp Dick Robinson and Crab 
Orchard, a pursuit that proved fruitless, as a whole, 
to the Union Army. 

Since Robert had read G-asting’s letter he often 
thought of his sister, and made inquiries of the doc- 
tors who had been on duty in Nashville, but he did 
not obtain the slightest clue to her whereabouts, and 
he began to fear she was dead. He succeeded in 
obtaining a ten days’ leave of absence about the 
middle of the month, when he started for Louisville 
and instituted a search through the provost marshals 
stationed in the towns and garrisons from Louisville 
south. He advertised in the papers and had editorial 
notice called to the case, but six days passed and his 
inquiries brought no response, and the faint hope of 
ever seeing his sister died out. While at Louisville 
his cousin Allen wrote him from home, where he was 
spending a short leave, asking him to run up to Jes- 
samine and stay a few days with him before rejoining 
his command. Robert was anxious to see his uncle 
and tender his sympathies to the old man in his 
affliction. He availed himself of the invitation by 
starting at once. It was short ride by the railroad 


THE OLD KENTUCKY HOME. 


879 


to Nicholasville, and, reaching there, he was fortu- 
nate in finding Allen in the town with a conveyance. 

The beautiful home on the Kentucky seemed sadly 
changed since the lovely spring morning, more than 
a year before, when ftobert arrived from Texas. The 
grove approaching the house had been the camp- 
ground of the rebel General Ledbetter’s command, 
and the. ground was strewn with the debris and useless 
impedimenta which seems to mark every camp-ground. 
The sward was blackened and scarred by camp-fires, 
and the smaller trees and shrubs were bent and torn 
to form shelters for the troops. The fences were 
tumbled down, and the burned remnants of rails were 
scattered about. The flower beds and mossy-edged 
walks, once watched with taste and care, were un- 
weeded and ragged, and the deep prints of horses’ 
hoofs marked the lawn to the very threshold. The 
house itself, so quaint and irregular, with its archi- 
tectural surprises and ivy-covered gables, looked 
gloomy and desolate. The blinds were down and the 
shutters closed, while the wind, wintry and cutting, 
moaned through the trees, sweeping the brown locust 
leaves in heaps about the gallery and whistling with 
a saddening sound about the high, brown chimnies. 
Inside Robert found the once bright Bell, pale and 
careworn, her face wearing an expression of sadness 
and age, that the deep mourning dress increased. His 
uncle was much depressed, and greeted Robert in a 
low, tremulous voice, as if afraid to wake some loved 
sleeper whose rest depended on quiet. 

The merits of the Union and States’ rights questions 
were no longer matters for discussion, and even Bell 
avoidedt hem. They spoke of Russell, the generous. 


380 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


impulsive boy, so honest in his convictions, so noble 
even in his erring acts. A few days before Robert’s 
arrival they buried Russell on the steep banks of the 
river he loved so well, and one sweet girl from a 
neighboring plantation left the freshly-covered grave 
with a breaking heart. Poor Agnes Ludlow f she 
sank from that day. The doctors called her sickness 
a decline, but, like many girls who dropped quietly 
away during the years of strife, her death-wound 
came from the battle-field. 

Mr. Warren’s great loss in the campaign of Bragg 
was his young, bright boy ; but in addition he suf- 
fered greatly in his worldly goods. The Confederates 
had a maxim which they invariably carried out to the 
letter. If a civilian had anything they desired or 
needed they took it, saying, ‘ ‘ If you are in favor of 
the Confederacy, you will give this willingly to secure 
success. If you are in favor of the Yankees, you 
deserve to lose it.” The cattle, horses, and negroes 
were taken without receipt by Bragg’s quartermasters. 
The granaries were depleted, and the wagons taken 
to carry off the grain. Even the park where Mr. 
Warren kept his deer was unfenced by Ledbetter’s 
men, and the animals shot in very wantonness. Bell 
acknowledged during that first evening that the Con- 
federates were not the noble, chivalric men she had 
imagined, though she could not help adding : 

“ I am sure the Yankees would have been worse.’* 

Mr. Warren deplored his afflictions as too severe for 
one who stood aloof and looked impartially on the 
contest. After making such a statement, Robert said : 

“You will pardon me, uncle, but it is impossible 
for any American to be neutral in this struggle. Ho 


A DIVIDED HOUSE. 


381 


may imagine himself to be so, but liis sympathies 
are with one side or the other. I have made it a rule — 
and I think it safe — that when a man is neutral or 
doubtful, set him down as opposed to you.” 

“You are not just to me, Robert,” said the old man, 
leaning his head on his hand and sighing; “no man 
is before me in his love for the Government, but it ’s 
very hard, to go against one’s friends and interests. ” 

“ God knows how keenly I have felt that, father,” 
said Allen as he gently took his father’s thin hand in 
his. “ Had Russell fought by my side I could not 
have loved him more, and in the very heat of battle, 
opposed to me as he was, I would have died to save 
him. But no matter where a man was born, or what 
blood runs in his veins, if he casts down what honor 
and patriotism call on me to uphold, that man is my 
foe while he resists, and it is my duty to oppose him.” 

“It seems to me our family in Texas and here has 
been fearfully afflicted — more so than any I know of, 
though I think, not excepting poor Russell, that we have 
all tried to do our duty,” said Robert, as he rose' and 
opening a widow, gazed out on the bleak woods and 
neglected grounds. 

The conversation was changed a dozen times, but 
ever and anon the subject uppermost in each mind 
would come to the surface, and the war with its horrors 
was the fruitful theme. 

Robert staid twenty-four hours at his uncle’s, and 
desiring to visit Perryville to look for Gaines and 
Tennessee, with his father, old Dawn, he determined 
to leave so as to reach his command promptly on the 
expiration of his short leave of absence. His re- 
ception had been so kind, and Bell so much like the 


382 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


sweet girl he had kissed adieu that stormy night at 
Gonzelletta, when he started north, that he felt very 
sad at parting, and prayed that another young soldier, 
dear to his cousin, might be spared by the Union bullets. 

Buell’s army, after its fatiguing, fruitless pursuit, 
returned to Lebanon, where it was again organizing 
to retrace its steps South. Robert proceeded to Per- 
ryville at once, hoping to see his friends. Reaching 
there, he found Dr. Hatchett acting as post surgeon, 
and from him he learned that the three men in whom 
he was so much interested were living and in the 
hospital, a Baptist church in the village. The doctor 
was a kind-hearted Christian gentleman, and a Ken- 
tuckian. He volunteered to accompany Robert, and 
as they entered the church they met, ’mid the crowd 
of wounded men sitting about the door, old Dawn, 
with his grey head so disguised by plasters and band- 
ages as to be hardly recognizable. He was smoking 
a corn-cob pipe, and entertaining his interested audi- 
tors by an eulogy of Andrew Jackson, and an account 
of the Cherokee Indians, among whom he was raised. 
The old man recognized the captain first, and spring- 
ing from his seat with the activity of a young man, 
he seized Robert’s hand, and in a voice filled with 
honest earnestness he said : “’Fore heaven, cap, I ’m 
glad to see yeh. Dogond if I do n’t feel all right this 
minute !” Then dropping his voice he asked : 

“How is he? Did tlier boy come out squar?” 

“You mean little Ned?” said the captain. 

“ Yes, him ; I’v ? been right smart riled a thinkin’ 
on him.” 

“He is safe and sound ; I had him made a sergeant 
after Perry ville.” 


THE WOUNDED SCOUTS. 


383 


“Now, I swar,” said the old man, looking around on 
the group of soldiers, “who’d have thought of my 
little boy bein’ a sargin. Reckon the doctor ’ll let 
me start back right off — I never felt better in my life.” 

The doctor laughed heartily at this, and promised 
that if the old man took care of himself he would be 
able to return in ten days. 

“Wall, doc, jis’ say what I’ve got to do, and by 
the ghost of old Andrew I’ll git right down to it.” 

“ Where is Tennessee?” asked Robert, as he stepped 
into the hospital.” 

“Poor Jim !” said the old man, “the rebs jist went 
for him heavy.” 

The doctor and Robert, accompanied by the old 
man, walked down the long avenue of cots with their 
pale, suffering occupants. Near where the pulpit once 
stood they stopped before a bed that was made on 
the floor, and beside which two nurses knelt, one of 
them holding the long, wasted arm of Tennessee. 
Robert could scarcely believe the evidence of his 
senses. The long, yellow beard had been cut off, and 
the thick, sun-burned hair, that once gave a leonine 
apppearance to the scout, was shaved closely. The 
blue eyes, so full of humor and kindness, now glared 
with the expression of a maniac, and from the long, 
full face the flesh had fallen away, leaving the brown 
skin drawn tight on the prominent cheek-bones. 

Robert knelt down, the tears starting from his eyes, 
and in a voice gentle as a woman’s whispered, “ Ten- 
nessee, Tennessee, my brave boy ! do you know me?” 

The large eyes rolled, and Tennessee stared wildly 
around, then tried to disengage his arm. 

“ The ball passed from right to left through both 


384 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


lungs,” said the doctor. Ninety-nine men out of a 
hundred would have died at once, but he is a giant. 
This unfortunate fever hag shaken the hopes I had 
for his recovery. A speedy change must come, cap- 
tain ; he cannot last many hours.” 

“ Is it brave? Is it squar’, tell me, yeh hounds ?” 
Tennessee turned his head as he raved, and for an 
instant he seemed to recognize the captain. Then 
the glare came back, and in an intense whisper, as if 
speaking under some strong, suppressed excitement, 
he said : 

“ Let me out, damn yeh ! Let me out an’ I T1 come 
back ! Oh God, they ’re a-drownded i Don ’t cuss me 
so, Cap ! Here, look in at Jim. Dawn’s heart. Ain’t 
it clean? I didn’t mean ter harm yeh, afore God.” 

Here Tennessee struggled to free his hand and ex- 
pose his heart, but the nurses restrained him. The 
doctor succeeded in forcing some medicine between 
the thin, ashy lips, flecked with foam. Then he knelt 
and felt the pulse for a minute or more. Gradually the 
eyes closed, and two little streams of dark blood 
trickled from the open nostrils. 

Old Dawn became so excited that the doctor had 
him removed, and Robert promised to see him again. 

“ Doctor, that man dying there is one of the few 
men in this world that I would feel willing to die for. 
He has been everything that a brave, generous, noble- 
hearted man could be. I feel as if his death would 
kill me. For God’s sake, doctor, save him ! ” 

The tears rose to Robert’s eyes, and the kind-heai ted 
doctor led him away. When they got into the open 
air, the doctor said : 

“ It would be foolish to deceive you with a hope. 


THE WOUNDED SCOUTS. 


S85 


Everything has been done for this man, and if he 
should recover I will regard it as nothing short of a 
miracle. However, you can depend upon me to the 
extent of my power.” 

Robert thanked the doctor, and as they walked 
through the town, he met a number of his wounded 
men hobbling around and carrying their arms in 
slings. Among the latter was 44 Indian Nation,” and 
he expressed in his exaggerated. Western way, his 
feelings at seeing the captain. 

44 We didn't bury Aleck Cameron on the field, Cap. 
Some of us boys toted him back. He ’s fixed up thar 
on the hill, under that black rock. And afore we 
leave we ’re a goin’ to cut his n^ime thar. Poor Aleck, 
he was jest game.” 

44 Indeed was he. No braver man is left,” said the 
captain, shaking Indian Nation’s unwounded hand. 

Gaines had been promoted to a lieutenancy for 
gallant conduct at Perryville. Robert would have 
called on him first, but he had to pass the church 
where Tennessee lay wounded, in order to reach the 
private residence used as an officers’ hospital, where 
Gaines lay with a shattered leg. 

He was delighted to see Robert, and despite his 
great suffering, he bore up with a cheerfulness which 
surprised his friend, for hitherto he seemed to act 
without much feeling, and simply from the motive of 
duty. 

He spoke of his wound in a light way, assured the 
captain, and appealed to the doctor to corroborate bis 
statement that he would be about in a few days. 

44 But, Gaines, old boy,” said the captain, 44 where 
were you wounded? I have an indistinct recollection 
33 


386 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


of seeing you in the advance when we charged on 
Gilbert’s' front7’ 

“ Yes, I was ahead. The fact is, I got beside my- 
self, and made a bee-line for a rebel flag. I got it, 
and the next instant I felt my leg crack like a pipe- 
stem, and down I went. You were then to the k-ft. 
The line began to fall back, and I begged some of 
the Missourians, with whom we were mixed up, to carry 
me back. They did so, and I hung on to the colors 
like a child to a Christmas toy. I was taken to our 
rear, and lay for hours on the field. I must say I 
thought about dying at times, when I fainted with 
the heat and loss of blood. By the way, Robert, here 
are the colors.” 

Gaines drew from under his pillow a barred flag, 
tattered by balls and stained with blood. The blue 
ground had a lone star in the center, and in heavy 
letters on the white stripe were the words, “Presented 
by the ladies of Fort Bend to Company F, Eighth 
Texas Cavalry.” 

“ This, indeed, is a prize worth struggling for. Let 
me congratulate you on capturing the colors of the 
best men in the Southern army.” 

“ Seriously, I did not know to what regiment they 
belonged, all were fighting dismounted. I think I 
must have been crazy when I started. However, that 
is all past. I was sorry to hear of your cousin’s death. 
What have you heard from home ?” 

Robert related his fruitless search for his sister, and 
also told Gaines that he was then en route to Labanon 
to join the remnant of his company. Gaines was 
sanguine about his speedy return to the front. After 
Robert had congratulated him on his promotion, and 


A REVEREND REBEL. 


3^7 


tendered his kindly services, he bade his old friend 
good-bye, and promising to write as often as possible, 
he returned to the hospital. Tennessee was asleep, 
his long arms stretched by his side, his mouth open, 
and only the slowly-heaving breast indicated life. 

Robert knelt beside the cot for a short time 
with bowed head ; then he rose, and fearing to touch 
the thin, skeleton-like hand, lest it might arouse the 
sleeper, he walked quietly away. He gave Old Dawn, 
whom he met outside, a little money for his own 
wants, and begging the doctor to write him at once 
if Tennessee died, he mounted and started for Leb- 
anon. 

South again the Army turned, jaded and broken by 
fruitless marches and indecisive encounters. Bragg 
had entered East Tennesse in safety, and was moving 
around by Chattanooga and Stevenson to confront the 
Union forces again in Middle Tennessee. 

At the little town of Evansville Robert met some 
relatives of Mrs. Boardman, all of whom sympathized 
with the cause of the Confederacy. He told them of 
the sufferings of the Union people in Texas, and 
spoke of his fears as to the safety of Mrs. Boardman 
and Amy. 

The Rev. William McxVrthur, a cousin of Mrs. 
Boardman, offset Robert’s account by describing the 
advent and exit of Jim Brownlow’s troops in their 
village. The clergyman spoke in a voice of holy in- 
dignation. 

“Providence, for some wise purpose best known to 
Him, Captain Warren, afflicted us a week since with 
the First Tennessee Cavalry. Col. Johnson, or “Bob 
Johnson,” as his men call him, is supposed to com- 


388 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


mand that collection of most vile men. Johnson is 
a son of that very bad man, the Yankee governor of 
Tennessee. Brownlow is lieutenant-colonel ; his 
mer call him 4 Jim he is the son of the parson ; 
thank God, there are not many such clergymen !” and 
the Rev. McArthur, of the Cumberland Presbyterians, 
raised his eyes in the direction supposed to indicate 
the location of heaven. Then he continued, with a 
sanctimonious sigh: 44 Those vile, unorganized men, 
sir hundred strong, entered our peaceful village on 
the holy Sabbath day. I purposed holding worship in 
my church that night, but my dear parishioners, 
knowing the vile religious tenets of Brownlow, and 
the utterly degraded character of Johnson, restrained 
me. The officers stopped at Davis’s Hotel. Mr. Da- 
vis is a most excellent man, and a cousin of his ex- 
cellency President Davis. The men were scattered 
around, quartered on the people, and any opposition 
to their wishes resulted in coarse language and threats. 
They changed their old, broken-down horses for the 
best in the place, and even mine, presented by my 
people, was not beyond their avarice. He was a beau- 
tiful, faithful horse ; a child could drive him. In his 
place there is a huge, bony skeleton, spavined, back 
sore, and with a tendency to bite that is fearful, and 
a habit of lying down in harness if he hears a pistol 
fired. It is not of this I complain, Captain Warren, 
hard as it is to bear,” said the Rev. McArthur in a 
reproving tone, as he noticed the symptoms of a smile 
about the captain’s mouth. 44 The worst is to come. 
Johnson demanded whisky from Mr. Davis, which that 
geutleman prudently withheld. Thereupon Johnson, 
who occupied the parlor and sat on the sofa with a 


GRIEVANCES. 


389 


chair supporting each of his legs, sent for Mr. Davis, 
and, handing him the sacred book, presented by his 
Sunday-school class, and which Mr. Davis has ever 
prized and kept as a parlor ornament, he said : ‘ Your 
name is Davis?’ in a coarse, insulting tone. 

“ ‘It is,’ replied Mr. Davis, firmly. 

“ ‘You refuse to give me whisky/ said Johnson. 

“ ‘As proprietor of thisJiotel I cannot sell liquor on 
the Sabbath day,’ answered Mr. Davis. 

“ ‘ Who the devil dared to ask you to violate your 
principles, sir? I want whisky for nothing. Now, 
you ’ve got to swear you have none in this shanty, or 
I’ll raise a rumpus that’ll make your head swim.’ 

“Mr. Davis, of course, refused to swear, and there- 
upon J ohnson called for his comrade, Brownlow. To 
him he exaggerated the supposed offense of Mr. Davis, 
and then said : 

“‘Now, Jim, if you were in my place, what would 
you do with this man?’ 

“ ‘ Do ! ’ said Brownlow, in a drunken voice. ‘ Why, 
Bob, I ’d just gag the old chap and send him to jail.’ 

“ ‘ You see the advantage of a good lieutenant- 
colonel, Mr. Davis,’ said Johnson. Then calling a 
sergeant, they sent Mr. Davis to jail. That is, we 
have no place used for the retaining of criminals 
here, so they converted the house of God — my 
church — into a jail ! ’ ’ 

Mr. McArthur’s voice became tremulous, and he 
took a cup of water to strengthen himself for his 
task. 

“I deplore this conduct on the part of Colonel 
Johnson,” said the captain. “In defense of my com- 
rades, however, I must say, Mr. McArthur, that it is 
33 * 


390 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


the exception to the rule. We try to treat even our 
enemies, when captured, with consideration.” 

“I have not concluded, Captain Warren. Wait 
till I have told you the whole of this most infamous 
transaction. Mr. Davis was confined in the church 
and a guard placed over him. This outrage came to 
the ears of myself and some brother clergymen, and 
we repaired at once to the hotel and remonstrated 
with Colonel Johnson. He felt like relenting, but, 
unfortunately for us, he submitted the case to Brown- 
low. I did not like this bad young man’s reckless 
appearance. He turned to me and said : 

“ ‘You can arrange this matter at once by giving 
the colonel some whisky. He ’s a very moderate 
drinker ; ten gallons will make him as happy as a 
lamb and innocent as a dove till morning. * 

“ ‘ That ’s so, JinH If they do the proper thing they 
can allay my troubled spirit and release from dungeon 
yon pining man.’ As Johnson said this he pointed to 
an oil painting of Mr. Davis hanging above the piano. 

“ Of course we refused to comply with this request, 
and were about to withdraw, when Johnson told the 
sergeant to detain us. 

“‘Jim,’ he said, turning to Brownlow, ‘havn’t I 
the temper of an A No. 1 angel?’ 

‘“If you don’t know that you’re angelically dis- 
posed, Bob, it is’nt for want of my telling you. 1 
have watched with wondering awe your familiarity 
and daily intercourse with the spirits.’ As Brown, 
low spoke I trembled at his profanity, but what could 
be expected from the son of such a father ? 

“‘Now, Jim, w T hat shall we do with these holy 
men?’ asked Johnson. 


A COMPROMISE. 


391 


‘ 4i Put them in jail with the landlord , 9 said the 
fiend. And they did. Mr. Warren ; they incarcerated 
us in the house of prayer.” Mr. McArthur showed 
symptoms of weakness, and sipped some more water 
at this part of the narrative. 

After this, a number, indeed the majority of the 
gentlemen in town, without regard to church, called 
on Johnson, and they too were incarcerated in the 
same way. This was not the worst feature of this 
most abominable transaction. Our wives went to 
the brutes in a body and demanded our release, 
and — would you believe it, Captain Warren, you who 
wear the imiform those men disgraced ? — they actu- 
ally sent the ladies to jaii, too. I can never forget 
the agony of that night,” and Mr. McArthur pressed 
his white hand to his brow. 

“ But did they keep you in there all night,” asked 
Bobert. 

“No,” replied Mr. McArthur, “ we knelt in prayer, 
and asked for advice. The enemy had the pow er and 
we compromised by letting Mr. Davis give them the 
whisky. Then we returned to our distracted fami- 
lies.” 

Mr. McArther had told the longest story, and 
Bobert, suppressing his feelings, deplored the horrors 
of war. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


t 


THE SCOUTS RE-ENFORCED. 

Back again to Tennessee the Union Army marched, 
ioortified and discouraged by the useless campaign in 
Kentucky. A feeling of discontent prevailed, and 
the men lost that confidence which they had after the 
successes of the previous spring. While General 
Buell was certainly an accomplished gentleman and 
a soldier of undoubted bravery, it was wise in the 
Government to replace him by Rosecfans at that time. 
The latter officer secured at once the confidence of 
the troops, both by the reform^ he instituted and his 
previous brilliant record. 

Captain Warren’s company was increased by details 
from other regiments to the number of one hundred 
and eleven men. As a rule they were well acquainted 
with the South by a residence therein before the war. 
Among the men who joined him in the latter part of 
November was Lieutenant Alfred Richardson, of the 
Second Middle Tennessee Cavalry. He was the very 
ideal of a Southern gentleman, of a good family and 
splendid education. He was about twenty-eight years 
of age, of middle height, firmly though slightly built, 
with brown hair and large, dark eyes, with a broad 
brow, which the sun never seemed to tan. In manner 
he was somewhat reserved, but toward those whom he 
esteemed, he was frankness itself. There was a mag- 


AN OUTPOST INCIDENT. 


393 


netism about Richardson which won men at once, 
while it seemed to repel familiarity. From the first 
he and Robert became friends of the strongest kind, 
for their mutual regard had its foundation in respect. 

The early December came cold and dreary, with 
its leafless trees, muddy roads, and drizzling rain and 
sleet. It was just the time when warm clothing and 
cheerful fires in cozy rooms were pleasant. But the 
Army of the Cumberland was houseless and restless, 
anxious to measure its strength under a new leader 
with Bragg. The Confederate troops had made a 
wonderful march — through southeastern Kentucky and 
Cumberland Gap into East Tennessee, then down to 
Chattanooga and around by Stevenson to Murfrees- 
boro’, where they confronted the Union forces. The 
summer’s heat, with dusty roads and exhausting 
marches, was hard on the troops, but the cool nights 
of summer brought a * respite when men could rest. 
The winter’s constant cold, with muddy camping 
grounds, leaking tents, and marches when the weary 
feet seemed covered with cold, liquid lead, was still 
harder on the men , but they bore all cheerfully after 
Rosecrans took command. 

One night while Captain Warren’s men were doing 
picket duty for a cavalry force that was raiding in the 
direction of McMinnville, an incident occurred, the 
narration of which will throw some light on the con- 
dition and feeling of the Union soldiers at this time 
in the South and West. It was a cold pight, when 
the wind seemed to cut every object it struck, and an 
icy enamel covered everything exposed to its force. 
Lieutenant Richardson had charge of an advanced 
picket post on the McMinnville road. Under the brow 


394 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


of the hill on Avhich the pickets were posted, the men 
had built a fire and piled up a heap of branches to 
windward to break the force of the northwester. The 
horses, though blanketed, drew themselves up and 
shivered and crowded together in a vain effort to 
keep warm. Robert had charge of a picket front of 
over half a mile, and as they were close to Forrest at 
the time, he exercised more than his usual caution. 
It was no uncommon occurrence at this time for fugi- 
tive slaves under cover of the darkness to pass the 
rebel lines and seek the Union pickets with the hope 
of protection and liberty. Orders from headquarters, 
however, made it imperative on the officers into whose 
commands the fugitive came to retain them till their 
masters came to claim their property. It was galling 
to many a brave man, who was in favor of or indiffer- 
ent about slavery, thus to be made a slave-catcher for 
his enemies. About three o’clock on the night in 
question Robert visited Richardson’s post. The men, 
with their belts drawn tight and their great-coat col- 
lars turned up till they met their slouched hats, walked 
nervously around or crouched before the fire, so cold 
on one side and smoky on the other that comfort and 
heat were impossible at the same time. Richardson 
alone seemed indifferent to the blast ; his face was 
pale and stern, and he met his captain as he dis- 
mounted with more than his habitual reserve. On 
reaching the fire Robert was struck with a group of 
negroes huddled together and evidently suffering from 
some great fatigue or over-excitement. There were 
four, lightly clad and poorly shod ; two men, one 
quite old, the other about thirty, with a young 
woman and a child. The woman looked earnestly 


ESCAPING FROM BONDAGE. 


395 


from face to face, as if about to ask some vital 
question, while she hugged her little one closer 
to her breast, and drew around it the ends of 
the ragged black shawl in which it was wrapped. 
The old man had that patriarchal look peculiar to 
old negroes. His head was perfectly white, and his 
close, straggling beard and eye-brows of the same 
color formed a strange contrast to his black face, and 
looked as if the intense cold had frosted the hair. 
But the look of painful anxiety on the face, and the 
blending expression of pain and fright, gave at first 
sight the impression that his “hair had grown white 
*n a single night, as men have grown through sudden 
fear.” The young man seemed indifferent to the 
cold. He was powerfully built, and his thin cotton 
garments served but to show the muscular form they 
so poorly covered. He sat on the ground beside the 
young woman, his face resting between his hands, and 
a stout staff, with a bundle attached, lying on the 
ground beside him. A thick leather belt was fastened 
around his waist, between which and his body a heavy 
hatchet was fastened. He looked the very picture of 
fierce desperation. His eyes were fixed intently on 
the fire, unmoved by the fitful flashes with which the 
cold wind fanned it. The muscles of his face about 
the high cheek-bones seemed thick and swollen, 
while the large mouth, with its heavy, compressed 
lips, looked as if cut out of black marble. 

Robert knew at once they were fugitives, and a 
chill not excited by the howling wind passed through 
him. Approaching the fire he stooped to warm his 
hands, while he addressed the young black man : 

“Well, boy, where did you come from to-night ?” 


396 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The black man raised his head and looked with 
an expression of half supplication and half wonder at 
Robert, without speaking. Robert repeated his ques- 
tion, and the negro, prefacing his reply with a sigh, 
which only the compressed lips had hitherto repressed, 
said : 

“ Mauss, me an’ dad an’ Sal an’ de liddle one have 
come to you for freedom. You ’se de Yankees, is n’t 
yell?” 

“Yes, boy, they call us ‘Yankees.’ Where did 
you come from ? ” 

“ Mauss, it ’s a long way off. Fur two days we ’ve 
bin in de woods. De young un ’s a’most dead, an’ dad 
ain’t strong any more. De sale wuz to be yesterday, 
an’ we left fur de Yankees.” 

“What do you mean about the sale?” 

“ Why, Mauss Dick wuz killed in Kaintuck. We 
b’longed to him, an’ dey wuz to sell de place yester- 
day. Sal wuz on anodder place, but I knowed I wuz 
goin’ souf from her an’ dad an’ de chile, so we left 
fur de Yanks.” 

“Do you know, boy, that the Yankees cannot take 
care of you. We are not fighting to make the slaves 
free ; we are fighting for the Union. We must keep 
you till to-morrow, and if any one comes after you 
we have orders to send you back to your master.” 

As Robert spoke the black man rose to his feet and 
stood near his wife, who had uttered a low, wailing 
cry. The lately compressed lips quivered with emo- 
tion, and the large black eyes fairly flashed, as one 
strong, muscular hand instinctively clutched the 
handle of the hatchet. The old man stood up beside 
his son, and in a tremulous voice, with clasped hands, 
he said : 


A PLEA AND A PROTEST. 


397 


“Don’t, mauss; please, do n’t ! Dey ’ll kill Ike, 
an’ I ’m no good no more ; please do n’t, mauss ! ” 

The black woman pressed her shining little one 
more closely and sprang to her ftet with a frightened 
look in her face, as if ready for flight. Low mutter- 
ing curses came from the soldiers around the fire, and 
one of the men growled loud enough for the officers 
to hear, “If I wore shoulder-straps, damned if I 
wouldn’t resign afore I’d do it. Now them’s my 
feelings.” 

“ I wish to speak to you, Captain,” said Richardson, 
walking away from the fire, his thin lips so firmly set 
that he seemed to speak with his close white teeth. 
Robert followed him for twenty yards, when the lieu- 
tenant turned, and, drawing himself up till he looked 
nearly as tall as Robert, he asked : 

“ Captain Warren, do you intend turning over those 
black people till their rebel owners come to claim 
them?” 

“ They came into your post, lieutenant ; it is for 
you to do this thing. You know the orders about 
fugitive slaves?” 

“ I do, sir, and I blush for the cause in which I am 
engaged.” 

“Well, what do you propose doing?” asked the 
captain. 

Richardson’s voice trembled with indignation as he 
said : 

“ First, I have made up my mind to place those 
people beyond the reach of pursuit if in my power, 
and, in the second place, after we have left the ene- 
my’s front I intend resigning and tearing off the uni- 
form of a cause that God cannot approve nor honest 
34 


398 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


men fight for. I will not be made a slave-catcher to 
conciliate treason.” 

“ Lieutenant, I feel our position as keenly as you 
can,” said the captain, taking Richardson’s hand in 
his ; “but I have always carried out my orders to the 
letter. I have grown sick of conciliation. I will 
help you to get these poor people to the rear, but you 
must not resign, Richardson ; I have not so many 
friends that I can afford to part with you.” 

Richardson returned the pressure of the captain’s 
hand, and the men understood each other better. 
When they returned to the fire Arehy was busy cook- 
ing coffee, and assuring his colored friends that the 
captain “would do jes right,” and “not to fret yer 
poor souls out fur noffin’.” 

The black man looked earnestly into Richardson’s 
face as they stood near the fire, and the lieutenant, 
anxious to relieve the suspense of the fugitives, said : 

“ Here is your best friend, boy,” pointing to Robert. 
“ He has given me liberty to do as I choose with you. 
I will take you back to the Union camps and then 
send you North, where your rebel owners will never 
go, except to be despised.” 

The old man seized the lieutenant’s hand, and with 
words of homely gratitude pressed it to his lips, while 
the young man placed his arm about his trembling 
wife as if to support his own weakness, and then down 
the face lately so rigid and determined the hot tears 
flowed, while Archy, still busy with his coffee, stopped 
to clasp the hands of his colored friends and to im- 
press upon them the necessity of “praisin’ de Lor’, 
who led de chillen wid de fiah by night.” 

The wind seemed less cold by the picket post that 


MURFREESBORO’. 


399 


night, and the gloom fled from the faces of the men, 
who by a hundred little acts of kindness showed the 
sympathetic bond that unites in distress men of every 
land and race and creed. 

The expedition to McMinnville resulted in a skir- 
mish and a withdrawal of ;he Union cavalry to the 
main army near Nashville, where a battle was daily 
expected with Bragg. 

It was nearing Christmas, a time ever suggestive 
of happy homes and pleasant reunions, but the time 
brought no rest tQ the armies edging daily closer 
together for the contest before Murfreesboro’. In 
the meantime the cavalry, reorganized under Stanley, 
checked the daring raids of Morgan and Wheeler, 
who hitherto had proved a serious annoyance to the 
Union communications. 

December 31 was a bright, beautiful day ; the sun 
was warm as an early May-day. Eosecrans was ready 
for the conflict, and his forces were gradually ad- 
vanced to Stone River, a little northwest of Murfrees- 
boro’, between which town and the river General 
Bragg, on ground of his own choosing, had posted his 
sixty-five thousand veterans under Breckinridge, 
Polk, and Hardee. Opposed to them were Critten- 
den, Thomas, and McCook, with scarcely fifty thous- 
and men. For days before the front was one con- 
tinued skirmish line, and the rear the scene of a 
score of well-conducted raids under Wheeler, Wharton 
and Morgan. By daylight Hardee had started the 
work of slaughter. Crossing the river, which was 
fordable at every point, preceded by a cloud of sharp- 
shooters, Cleburne and Cheatham, with eight brigades 
of infantry, burst from the jungle of cedars and oaks 


400 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


before McCook had a thought of their presence, and 
before twenty minutes the right wing of Rosecrans’s 
army was a routed mob. Johnson’s division was lit- 
erally crushed without striking a blow. Sheridan was 
the first to rally his men, and Davis quickly came to 
his aid, but the stubborn courage of those gallant 
men offered but a temporary resistance to Hurdee. 
The accomplished Sill was- slain early in the fight, 
and a score of officers like Shaeffer and Roberts were 
wounded or slain. In the meantime the fighting 
became general along the front, and the rebels began 
the old game of doubling the army back upon itself, 
while their cavalry in swarms pushed to the rear of 
McCook and Thomas. It was well that Thomas held 
the ever-unflinching center; well that Negly guarded 
his right, with the heroic Rousseau at his back. 
Between Negley and McCook the daring rebel Irish- 
man, Pat Cleburne, led his brigades, intending to 
annihilate the right, but Negley was more than a match 
for hirn. With a determination and valor that entitles 
him to the proud designation of “the hero of Stone 
River,” he formed left in front and literally crushed out 
the confident masses of the enemy. But Hardee was not 
to be deterred. Column after column was hurled against 
Negley till his overpowered, exhausted men were 
forced through the dense undergrowth to his rear, 
and with him the magnificent division of Rousseau. 
By twelve o’clock the fate of the Union army seemed 
sealed, and as at Shiloh the line, excepting in McCook’s 
front, was doubled up and crowded. More than this, 
and worse than Shiloh, four thousand well-mounted 
men w r ere actually on the line of retreat to Nashville, 
destroying the Union trains. In the meantime Sher* 


THE CRISIS OF THE BATTLE. 


401 


idan had gathered up his men, and from an ammu- 
nition train, saved by the gallant Captain Thruston, 
replenished the empty cartridge-boxes. On a good 
position he checked the rebels, while Hazen and Has- 
call routed the enemy to the rear, and Hardee with 
his veteran brigade stood like an impassable barrier 
to the right. During the day Polk and Hardee made 
desperate efforts to force back Thomas, but without 
success, while Crittenden and Breckinridge thundered 
a»t each other across the river. 

The old year went out with promise of a glorious 
victory to the South, and of utter annihilation to the 
arms of the Union. Seven thousand men were killed, 
wounded, or prisoners, and as many more useless and 
demoralized. But with the last toll of the clock that 
sounded the knell of '62 the shackles fell to the ground 
from four millions of slaves. The time set by Lincoln 
had expired, and the first sun of ’63 saw the Union 
banner the emblem of Union and Liberty. 

During the night Bosecrans drew back, shortened 
and strengthened his line, excepting the left, which 
headed toward Murfreesboro’, the key of the rebel 
position. The new year came, and during the day 
the troops on both sides fought for position, without 
coming to close quarters. The anxiety and fatigue 
of that second day were even worse than the first, 
and during the black night which followed, the front 
flashed with one continued blaze between the pickets. 
The 2d came and with the early dawn the rebels 
opened a tire so extended and continued that it seemed 
as if their front were one mighty volcano that belched 
and hurled out missiles of destruction, before which 
fences, trees, and the very earth itself was pounded 
34 * 


402 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


into splinters and ridges. Sheridan, Rousseau, Thomas, 
and finally Crittenden opened, and for two terrible 
hours the earth seemed to tremble beneath the terri- 
ble blows. Gradually the fire was concentrated on 
Crittenden, to the left of whose line Captain Warren 
was stationed. One by one the Union guns seemed 
to answer, and then like magic the gray masses 
rose from the earth, and, with thrilling yells, Breck- 
inridge’s men, Roger Hanson in the advance, dashed 
into the cold river, up the muddy banks, and out on 
the open fields beyond which Palmer and Van Cleve, 
with Negley from the right, met them. Then began 
a slaughter unequaled on that bloody field. Hanson 
fell dead in the lead. Still on the men came till 
within close range of nine thousand muskets, then 
the gray lines melted and the fragments in confusion 
rushed back to the river ; but even here the bank did 
not save them. They plunged into the water, but it 
was to find it beaten with spray by the artillery of 
Van Cleve, and to meet a more certain death ’neath its 
surface. In the meantime Wharton, now leading a 
brigade, had crossed the river above and swept down 
on a train hurrying up to Palmer. The Second Ten- 
nessee, with Warren’s battalion, was ordered to in- 
tercept him, and at a mad gallop they sped over a 
corn-field and through a cedar jungle, where they 
found Wharton in possession of four wagons. The 
charge sounded, and charge they did, fighting hand to 
hand around the wagons, which had taken fire and 
become equally dangerous to both sides. The rebels 
fell back, Warren rashly following them toward the 
river, when suddenly a regiment of Wheeler’s men 
rose from the ground. It was too late to turn, and 


ROBERT WARREN WOUNDED. 


403 


in another instant Don, riderless and wild, dashed into 
the rebel lines, and Robert Warren, with the hot 
blood pouring from his mouth, and nose, and breast, 
lay gasping on the muddy earth, while his routed men 
fled back toward Yan Cleve. 

It was now late in the afternoon, and a cold, pelting 
rain came driving over the field, while the sound of 
battle died out with the day. 

As Robert fell to the ground his head struck against 
a stone, and for hours he lay insensible. About ten 
o’clock he revived and tried to rise, but a choking 
sensation overcame him. A hard mass seemed to 
stick in his throat and stop his nostrils ; by a desperate 
effort he coughed up the obstruction. Then a hot 
stream poured out of his mouth, and with the distant 
camp-fires swimming in a circle before his giddy sight 
he fell fainting to the earth. It is hard for a strong 
man to die. It is wonderful, even considering their 
strength, that some of the wounded survived an hour, 
and equally wonderful, in looking at some of the 
dead on the battle-field, to see how little it took to 
kill them. The cold rain beat on Robert Warren’s 
blood-covered face, and he revived again in the dark- 
ness, and placed his hand on the open gash on the 
back of his head. He tried to collect his scattered 
senses. He fell in the charge. He remembered the 
ambuscade, and the terrible blow in the right breast, 
and the hot blood pouring from his mouth as he fell 
to the ground. He saw Richardson near him last, and 
Don flying toward the enemy. He was struck ; and he 
rose on one arm and felt his breast. The coat was 
wet and clammy with clotted blood. He searched 
with his cold fingers and felt the jagged hole so close 


401 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


to his heart, that as he inserted his finger he wondered 
that he lived. He could not last long. He managed 
to open his coat and thrust his hand inside the bloody 
shirt, and felt the hole with fragments of his clothing 
sticking about the wound. He was fearfully cold and 
stiff. Thoughts of home and Amy, and another 
worldly object, chased each other through his reeling 
brain. There were camp fires gleaming beyond. He 
could not tell the direction. The enemy might be 
there. But it mattered not, he could leave his dying 
requests, even with the enemy, and die near their fire 

Where was Archy ? He managed to rise, but again 
the camp-fires seemed to swim around him, and the 
choking sensation came as he tried to breathe. He 
opened his mouth and gasped, while the cold, cutting 
air entered the open wound. He took a few steps, 
reeling like a drunken man, when he stopped and 
pressed his hand to his head. He heard a voice near 
him ; the sound seemed to revive him, though it was 
the groan of a wounded man. 

“ Where are you?’’ he gasped, and, dropping on his 
hands and knees, he crawled in the direction of the 
sound. 

“ Here, here, friend. Oh, God, help me ! ” 

“I am coming, friend ; where’s your hand — your 
hand?” 

“ Shattered, broken. 0, for one drink of water ! ” 
Still around Robert’s shoulders hung his double-flasked 
canteen. He had forgotten that. There was brandy 
in one side, water in the other. Groping in the 
darkness, he reached the groaning man. 

“ Here is brandy, friend, drink,” he said, holding 
out the canteen. 


FRIENDS IN DISTRESS. 


405 


“ Oh, thanks — God bless you ! Put it to my lips,” 
said the wounded man. Could it be there was a mor- 
tal more suffering, more helpless than himself? Rob- 
ert could not raise the wounded man’s head, but he 
placed the canteen to his cold lips, and the stranger 
drank, with a sigh of relief. Then Robert, coughing 
up the clotted blood which every instant threatened 
to choke him, took a mouthful of the brandy, and in 
a few seconds his cold extremities began to experience 
sensation. He lay down beside the wounded soldier 
and asked, as he adjusted his head : 

“Where are you hit, friend?” 

“ In the spine or shoulders, I do n’t know just which. 
I cannot move. Oh, God ! if I could only sleep or die. 
Are you wounded?” 

“ Yes, shot through, the breast. Mustered out, I 
fear. What’s your regiment ?” 

“ Fifth Tennessee, Wheeler. Have we won ?” 

“I hope not, friend; I’m a Yankee. Take more 
brandy.” 

The wounded man drank again, and as Robert re- 
moved the flask he said : 

“God bless you, friend ! Take my hand in yours.” 

Robert took the hand, small as a woman’s and 
colder than his own, in his. 

‘ ‘ I hate no man ; I never knew an enemy till the 
war.” 

“Nor I, and God knows I hate none for fighting me 
bravely,” said Robert, stretching his stiff limbs beside 
the wounded Tenneseean. 

For some time both men were quiet, then the stran- 
ger turned his head and asked : 

“Friend, do you still hold my hand?” 


406 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“I do.” 

“God bless you; I want some one near me when 
I die. I have a mother.” 

“ So have I, friend, a noble mother.” 

The powerless hand of the stranger still rested cold 
in Robert’s. 

“ Promise me — but first your name.” 

“My name is Robert Warren. I commanded a 
battalion of scouts in the Union Army, but I feel as 
if I had led them for the last time.” 

“God forbid, God forbid, my friend; but promise 
me, if you live, to have me buried where my mother 
can get my body ; save some of my hair. Frazer — 
Franklin ” 

The wounded man stopped talking, and Robert 
placed his hand on his forehead, forgetting for a time 
his own intense suffering and his thoughts of death. 

“ He is dead,” he whispered to himself. 

“No ; dying, dying. Tell Jennie I thought of her 

and the boys, the boys ” Again the voice, that 

seemed to come from a lifeless corpse, ceased, and at 
the same time Robert felt the terrible choking sensa- 
tion and tried to rise, but he fell, with the hot blood 
pouring from his wound, beside the dead Tennesseean. 

Moments of painful consciousness, each growing 
less distinct, during the long hours ; a burning thirst, 
which he was too weak to gratify, parched his dry 
throat, where the choking lump seemed ever rising. 

Day came, cold, foggy, and rainy. For a time he 
struggled to retain consciousness, hoping for the de- 
tails to pass, but gradually the hope and the senses 
died out, and Robert Warren, with his bloody face 
turned upward, lay beside the dead Tennesseean. 


CHAPTER XXXYI. 


THE FIELD AFTER THE BATTLE. 

Slowly the gray dawn came through the clouds 
above and the fog beneath, revealing the mangled 
forms and upturned faces of the dead, clad in blue 
and gray, sleeping so calmly side by side, dying per- 
haps with such mutual words of comfort that the 
angels that carried them up did not look on them as 
foes. Moving rapidly through the mist, the details 
searched for the wounded that fearful morning, find- 
ing more often the dead. But few wounded men 
could survive that night of cold and storm ; it chilled 
the blood of the most robust. So the details with 
their stretchers carried oiT the dead. Now they lifted 
from the wet ground a slender, boy-like form, with a 
shattered arm dangling by his side, and a pool of 
black blood where he lay, but no expression of the 
agony he had felt on the smooth, pale face and blue 
lips. A light load — so they lay the boy across the 
stretcher, and pick up a tall, bearded man. His 
head drops back as they raise him, and the white 
bones glisten through the mangled throat, where the 
terrible grape-shot crashed. Back to the trenches, 
called graves, the two damp-looking soldiers walk with 
their load, and range them above the pit for search 
and recognition. The details are swarming in the di- 
rection where Breckinridge charged along Stone River 


408 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


with its cold, inky current emerging from and rolling 
down into the gray mist. There are dead men lying 
on the bloody stones, with the black water laving 
head or feet. In death they are clinging to the pro- 
truding branches of the skeleton-looking tree that 
rises and dips in the flood. But on the muddy, slippery 
bank, plowed into ridges by that unequaled artillery 
storm, and across the corn-field, beaten into mortar 
by five thousand hurrying feet, there are dead men in 
groups, where they rallied in line, where they charged, 
and singly, close up to the Union guns, carried there 
by desperate valor. Still up the river, near the scrub- 
oak jungle, there are dead horses and blue-clad forms 
lying around. The details clear the ground as they 
advance. Two men of the Eighteenth Kentucky are 
approaching the ground where General Wharton at- 
tacked the wagons, and Warren with the Tennesseeans 
charged. Suddenly they are startled by a cry that 
sends the blood in cold waves back to their hearts. 
It comes from the open space beyond the jungle, and 
the two men hurry to the spot, where a huge negro, 
the very picture of fierce despair, sits on the ground^ 
holding in his arms the inanimate form of a tall 
young soldier. The hat is off, the black hair is lank 
and bloody, and the upper teeth are driven, as if in 
some mortal agony, or struggle with death, into the 
still clenched, bleeding under lip. 

“ Oh, God, let me die ! Oh, Mauss Itobut, my life, 
my brudder ! speak to me. I’m Archy ! Oh, Lor’ ob 
Israel, help me now ! help me ! help me ! ” And the 
black man swept back the matted hair and kissed the 
broad forehead, and rubbed the brown, cold hands. 

“Hello, boy! what’s wrong here?” asked one of 


WARREN RESCUED. 409 

the men as they approached the black man with their 
stretcher. 

“ Oh, come, quick. Come, dis is Mauss Robut ! 
Captain Warren ! Don ’t let him die. God’ll bless 
yeh ! Oh, don ’t let Mauss Robut die ! ” 

One of the men placed his hand on the pulse, kneel- 
ing beside the body, “and in a sad voice said : 

“ It ’s a pity ! I ’ve seen this man when alive, and I 
never looked on a handsomer horseman 

44 Oh, don *t talk so. It’ll kill me. He ain ’t dead* 
Oh, carry him, tote him to the doctor’s. I’ll carry 
one end. Don ’t let Mauss Robut die in de cold, 
Dar, he’s bleedin’ now.” 

As Archy spoke, the red current began to flow 
again from the captain’s mouth, and the soldier 
kneeling near him opened the drooping eyelid, then 
laying his ear on the bloody coat above the captain ’s 
heart, he rose hurriedly, and with an excited oath, 
said to his companion : 

“He’s alive, Ned. Off with your coat and throw 
it on the stretcher.” As the soldier spoke, he pulled 
off his own great-coat and laying it on Frazer’s dead 
body, he and Archy lifted the captain on the stretcher. 
Then they wrapped the great-coat around him, while 
Archy nearly denuded himself to cover up his mas- 
ter’s breast and shoulders. They were about to move 
off when Archy saw the captain’s canteen lying beside 
the dead Confederate, a handsome, gentle-looking 
boy. He took the canteen and poured a little of the 
brandy it still contained between his master’s lips, 
and then bathed the gashed head with the rest, an 
operation the soldiers said was 44 a good idea,” though 
they mentally noted it a very wicked waste of brandy. 

35 


410 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ Reckon the captain and that reb drank out of the 
same canteen last night. Bleeding makes all men 
friends. Some poor woman will go sooner to her 
grave for that boy,” pointing to Frazer. “Ned, if 
the captain gits well, I ’ll bet five dollars he’d like to 
know where that boy ’s covered in.” 

Ned was of the same opinion, and agreed they 
should return to bury Frazer by himself. 

Archy did not shiver in the cold rain, though with 
only a shirt upon his breast and shoulders. He took 
the heavy end of the stretcher, and told the soldiers, 
“I’ll keer fur this, please God, if you two’ll tote the 
res’, if I ’ve got to walk all day.” 

About five hundred yards down the river, near the 
ruins of the burned bridge, they found an ambulance 
with a representative of the Sanitary Commission, a 
kind-hearted young clergyman. He helped them to 
take olf the wet, bloody garments, and replaced them 
with dry ones, shaking his head as he did so, and 
murmuring his fears that their labor was useless. 

“ Oh, no, mauss. Don’t say dat. Mauss Robut’s 
so good an’ L.ave. What’d de war do if he died? ” 
and Archy bathed the head while the young clergy- 
man applied some restoratives. The detail remained 
till they saw the first quiver of returning life on the 
bloody lips. Then they donned their overcoats, and 
went again to their painful duty. 

The ambulance started back with x\rchy inside, 
trying, as he knelt, to ease the jarring as they passed 
over the ruts, and to keep the covering around his 
master’s form. During this ride, as he afteward ex- 
pressed it, he “had a fearful struggle wid de Lor’ fur 
de life ob Mauss Robut.” He supplicated Heaven if 


AT THE FIELD HOSPITAL. 


411 


a life was necessary to take his, and “ spare de young 
mauss.” Past dismounted guns and dismembered 
wagons, by long trenches with their rows of dead, 
and at last the ambulance stopped before a large tent, 
inside of which a number of doctors, covered with 
blood, stood around an amputating table, looking, in 
the misty light, like savage butchers. 

“ Where must I take this man ? ” asked the driver. 

One of the doctors stepped quickly out, and, mount- 
ing the ambulance, pushed Archy aside, while he cut 
open the vest the yGung clergyman had put on the 
wounded man. He examined the wound, felt behind 
for the exit of the ball, listened to the faint beating 
of the heart, counted the languid pulsations at the 
wrist, and then, covering up the terrible hole with the 
blanket, he said, as he descended from the ambu- 
lance : 

“ It does not make much difference where you go ; 
that man can ’t live. The wonder is that he shows 
any signs of life.” 

Archy was usually gentle as a child in his manner, 
but the words of the doctor settled him, and in an 
excited tone he put his head out of the ambulance 
and shouted after the retreating doctor : 

“ I do n’t believe yeh know nothin’ ; Mauss Ilobut 
will live in spite of yeh.” 

“ What is your master’s name?” asked a doctor, 
who seemed to be directing the operations inside the 
tent. 

“Warren, sail — Captain Hobert Warren,” said 
Arcky, in a pleading tone. 

The doctor gave a few hurried instructions to those 
inside, then sprang into the ambulance, and, looking 


412 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


at the death-like face, in a tone that won Archy’ s 
heart he said : 

“ Poor Warren, they have struck close to your great 
warm heart.” 

Then he gave the driver directions, and, as they 
rolled over the ground to a plantation in the distance, 
Archy told Doctor Hatchett where he had found his 
master, and as be concluded he took the doctor’s 
hand and said, in a voice he always assumed when 
praying : 

“ Please tell me he’ll lib, doctah ! Jes’ say so 
once ! ” 

“ I cannot promise that, boy. But he is a strong 
man. His pulse is improving. Wonder he has a 
drop of blood left. By the way, boy, did you know 
Tennessee?” 

“Tennessee!” echoed Archy. “Well, mauss, I 
jes’ reckon I knowed Tennessee. He wuz our frien’, 
shuah. Do n’t ’spose we ’ll eber see ’im agin.” 

“ Yes, boy, you will, no doubt, see him again. I 
would pronounce the captain’s wound fatal were it 
not for the miraculous recovery of that man Tennes- 
see.” 

“ De Lor’ is workin’ miracles now as in de days ob 
de pillah ob fiah,” said Archy, reverently. 

“Yes, boy, without His watchful care I fear it 
would be dark indeed.” 

As the doctor ceased speaking the ambulance 
stopped before a large house, on the gallery of which 
a number of officers, with arms in slings or wounded 
about the head, were lamenting the noble Sill and 
chivalrous Garasch^. They gathered to see the new 
arrival, and an assistant came with a stretcher to help 


PROBING FOR THE BALL. 


413 


Archy in with the body. There were kind words and 
expressions of sorrow from the soldiers, who for the 
time forgot their own wounds. 

“He got it in front, ” said one. 

“ Wonder he did n't die on the field last night. It 
makes me shiver to think how he suffered," said an- 
other ; while a third, looking for an instant at the face, 
said : 

“By Heaven, men, that's Warren. That's the 
chap I spoke about. It made my hair rise to see him 
fly at those Texans. I saw him fall, and I believe 
that 's all I did see afterwards." 

“ You got knocked about that time, eh, cap?" said 
a comrade, laughing and looking at the bandaged 
head of his friend. 

“Yes, I saw more stars in daylight than if I had 
a couple of Ross's telescopes to my eyes.” 

In the meantime Robert was carried into a room 
and placed upon a clean cot. The doctor gave direc- 
tions in such a way that their execution followed at 
once. Archy and an assistant bathed the limbs in 
warm water, while the doctor forced some fluid be. 
tween the teeth, and after that the wounded man 
made an effort at swallowing. Then the wound in 
tfie head was dressed and the black hair cut close. 

“ There is no use in probing for that ball at present," 
said Doctor Hatchett. “We must stimulate him 
first." This was said after the doctor had inserted a 
probe so deep that Archy turned aside and groaned 
as if the instrument had been buried in his own breast. 
Indeed, had it been, the pain would have been easier 
to beai% 

The doctor, giving instructions to the assistant 
35 * 


414 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


surgeon in charge of the building, left, promising to 
return in a few hours. Archy could not resist say- 
ing: 

“May de God ob Israel bless dat ’ar doctah.” 
Then he sat bathing the feet and moistening the 
cloths upon his master’s breast, watching every quiver 
of the eyelid, counting every breath, and at times 
laying his hand on the wrist, though in utter ignorance 
of the pulse, as if the act had some healing power. 

Toward noon the painful breathing and gasping 
increased in strength, and by the time the doctor 
returned the captain began to mutter, at first indis- 
tinctly. At last, in a painful whisper, he called, 
“Archy! Archy!” 

“Yes, yes, Mauss Robut,” said the kind fellow, 
bending in anxiety beside the cot. 

“ It was n’t Don’s fault, Archy.” 

“No, Mauss Robut ; it wuz de rebels.” 

The captain muttered again for a few minutes, then 
he articulated : 

“ Richardson, burv Frazer. Poor fellow ! his mother. 
My poor mother J” 

In the afternoon they carried the cot near the light, 
and Archy became nervous as he saw the array of 
glistening probes and long, keen knives the doctor 
unpacked. 

“ You must leave the room, boy, till we have dressed 
this wound, ” said Doctor Hatchett, looking into Archy’s 
troubled face. 

“ Please led me stay, mauss. I ’ll say noffin’. He ’d 
led me if he knowed,” pleaded Archy, pointing to his 
master. 

“ l would let you remain, but I am afraid you may 


SURGICAL SKILL BAFFLED. 


415 


get noisy,” said the doctor, still sorting his instru- 
ments and arranging plaster and bandages. 

“ I ’ll be quiet as a chile,” said Archy. 

The doctor smiled. “ You may stay, boy, but if 
you make one-tenth the noise my children do some- 
times you ’ll go.” 

“Yes, mauss, out I’ll go,” repeated Archy in his 
anxious, softened voice. 

With a steady hand the doctor cleaned out the path 
of the bullet — pieces of clothing, torn flesh, and frag- 
ments of bone — nodding to his attendant at times, who 
in response to the signal would pour some stimulant into 
the wounded man’s mouth. After working with an 
anxious face for some time the doctor stopped with 
the long, shining probe buried in the wound, and said : 

“ Doctor Newton, just feel that ; the ball is flattened 
and fast to the ribs. It will be impossible to cut it 
there and withdraw it. The orifice is too small to do 
it without.” 

Doctor Newton sounded, placing his hand under 
the captain’s shoulder, and soon came to the same 
conclusion. 

“It might have been extracted last night, but I 
think the lung is not in condition now/’ 

“ Please tell me, doctah, Mauss Robert ain’t a-goin’ 
to die.” 

“Here, didn’t you promise to make no noise,” said 
the doctor. 

“Yes, sah, I ’ll be still ; I ’ll say noffin’,” said Archy, 
struggling to keep down the tears. 

The wound was dressed, and the captain’s cot moved 
back to the corner. His breathing seemed easier, and 
the expression of pain gradually passed away from his 


416 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


face. The doctor had Archy provided for, and giving 
him the captain’s time-piece, he told him to watch for 
three hours, and to call Doctor Newton if the captain 
seemed uneasy. After the three hours, Archy, who 
had been up all the previous night, was to have some 
rest. 

Poor fellow, he was not conscious of fatigue or hun- 
ger. His whole soul was absorbed in watching the 
ashy face of his master, and had Doctor Newton been 
called every time Archy felt like doing so, the young 
surgeon would have been busy running in and out all 
the time. 

Four days passed, the captain showing occasional 
moments of consciousness. Night and day Archy 
remained by the cot watching every motion, and fly- 
ing to execute every command that affected his mas- 
ter. Doctor Hatchett and his assistant were constant 
in their attentions, fanning the feeble flame of life 
through the long anxious nights, and guarding against 
the fever they dreaded. 

Doctoi Hatchett came in the fifth morning, looking 
very pale from some cause other than his labors ; 
Archy heard him whisper in the hall to Doctor New- 
ton : 

“We must send back all able to bear transportation* 
as the gangrene is spreading.” 

Archy’ s eyes expanded, and he drew a long breath 
as he whispered to himself, wonderingly, “De gan- 
gring ! some ob Wharton’s men, I reckon.” 

Something more terrible, more dreaded than Whar- 
ton’s men was coming to the camp. It came to many 
a cot in the dead of night, where the soldier lay suf- 
fering with mangled limb, or torn breast, or gashed 


FEELING BEFORE THE GANGRENE. 417 

head, and suddenly this child of death, gangrene, 
seized in its slimy hands the fevered scar, and at the 
cold touch the fever and the pain fled, and the strong 
men sighed in very comfort, and sat up with smiling 
faces, and joked about their condition, and exchanged 
congratulations at feeling so well. Deeper into the 
limb the painless scar sank, over a wider space of 
breast the bullet-hole stretched, nearer to the brain 
the scalp wound deepened, and the men wondered at 
the alarmed faces of the surgeons, growled at the 
burning caustics that brought back more than the old 
pain, and felt easy when the burning ceased, and the 
cold, slimy hand grasped nearer the vitals. At last 
it seized in the midnight an artery in the limb, and 
the soldier sank clamly to sleep. The cold hand 
touched the heart and chilled it — passed through 
the fracture in the scalp, and gangrene surrendered 
its victims to its father, Death. 

“ I think,” said Doctor Newton, “we can get all off 
excepting Captain Warren. It would be very danger- 
ous to move him now.” 

“ It would be more dangerous to let him remain. 
We must start him back to Nashville this very day,” 
said Dr. Hatchett, walking into the room where the 
captain, pale and breathing with so much difficulty, 

lay. 

The doetor was in earnest, and that afternoon he 
secured a detail of strong fellows to carry the captain 
to Nashville, fearing to trust him to the jolting of an 
ambulance. Doctor Newton accompanied the captain 
to Nashville, stopping at times for days at one of the 
many extemporized hospitals along the road. Don 
would have galloped the distance between Stone River 


418 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


and Nashville in a few hours ; it took one week to 
carry the captain^ there. Nashville was filled with 
wounded, though many able to bear transportation 
were sent North. Doctor Hatchett was in Nashville 
by the time the captain reached there, and had made 
arrangements to receive him in a private house. 

Long days of fear and doubt rolled past, with faint 
flickerings of reason — an ebb and flow of strength. 
The captain lay unconscious in the white cot, heed- 
ing not the soft footsteps, feeling not the gentle hand 
which smoothed his pillow and ministered to his wants. 
Archy was ever near him, a look of quiet satisfaction 
on his face as he watched the graceful form of the 
young woman moving noiselessly around his master’s 
bed like an angel unwearied in doing good. 

Strange as it may seem the wound from which the 
captain suffered most was the cut in his head received 
in falling from his horse. A consultation disclosed 
the fact that the skull was injured, and an operation 
followed which relieved the pressure on the brain, 
and Robert Warren woke to the world, and remem- 
bered only between his fall and his waking that cold 
night of rain and fog and sleet, when young Frazer 
died by his side, calling him friend. 

The doctors announced to Archy and the young 
nurse the return of reason, and while they permitted 
Archy to enter at will, they enjoined on the pale girl 
that she must only see the patient when he slept, and 
under no temptation to speak while in the captain’s 
room. 

As Archy entered, shortly after the doctors left, he 
saw a smile on his master’s face, and the once pow- 
erful hand, now so white and thin, was extended. 


THE SISTER NURSE. 


41S 


“How are you, Archy, old boy? Sit down. How 
3id I get here ?” 

Archy took the poor hand between his own, and 
while tears of joy streamed down his face he said, in 
a voice as low and tender as a pure woman’s : 

“ Tank de good Lor’, Mauss Robut. Sing praises 
to His name, fur yeh ’s agwine to lib again.” 

“Well, Archy, I can’t sing, but surely I have not 
been dead for any time, have I?” 

Archy became more serious as he remembered the 
doctors’ censure about talking. 

“Stop, Mauss Robut, yeh mus n’t say anodder word. 
Yeh ’s got to hush right up. Tank de Lor’ ob Israel, 
yeh’s a libin’. Dar, don’t yeh move ; can’t Towdat, 
no how. Yeh ’ve got to sleep, an’ may de Lor’ an’ de 
angels guard yeh wid dar shaddery wings.” 

The captain closed his eyes and turned his face on 
the pillow, while his heart, filled with a brother’s love 
for the brave man by his side, could not hold back 
the tears that rose up and flowed quietly and unob- 
served by the black down the pale face. 

A few days afterward, as the captain lay in a semi- 
conscious state, peculiar to invalids, his eyes slightly 
open, he felt a gentle hand on his forehead, and again 
and again a soft cheek pressed his. He could not 
rouse himself, but as the slender form, like a lost sun- 
beam, moved about the darkened room, his uncertain 
gaze followed it. He tried to remember where he 
had seen her, and as she bowed her beautiful head to 
speak to Archy sitting on the foot of the bed, he 
recognized the voice and heard the very words : 

“ Archy, you must call on Lieutenant Richardson 
with my compliments. Tell him his present of fruit 


420 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


and flowers was most acceptable, and that I am very 
sorry that brother Robert is not strong enough to see 
him for a few days.” 

“I ’ll go right off, Miss Mary,” said Archy, rising, 
a look of devotion on his black face as he turned it 
toward the girl. 

The stupor fled ; the eyes of the wounded soldier 
opened wide, and they drank in with rapture the 
vision before them. 

“ My sister — my brave little Mary !” 

She heard him, and her yearning heart, that had 
longed so much for a word of recognition, leaped with 
joy, and, forgetting the sage advice of the men of 
science, her white arms were around her brother and 
the happiest tears ever shed fell on Robert Warren’s 
face. 

“ Oh, Robert ! My own brave, noble brother. God 
knows this moment repays me fbr all,” she murmured 
as she laid her arm so gently across the bullet-scarred 
breast. 

Robert raised the pale, sweet face and looked on it 
till his eyes were feasted and his heart was glad. 
Then he kissed her again, as he said : 

“ And my little sister is living after all. And she 
did not die in prison?” 

“No, brother Robert. I left home to nurse you, 
and I am rewarded.” 

“I don’t feel the animosity I did to Wheeler’s 
men after all for wounding me ” 

The captain would have gone on speaking, but at 
this moment Doctor Newton entered the room,. and 
in a tone of much severity said : 

“ Miss Warren, this conduct is unpardonable. What 


ROBERT HIMSELF AGAIN. 


421 


tvill my brother-in-law, the lieutenant, say ? There, 
you may kiss the captain once more, and then I will 
let you go.” 

The doctor held up a warning finger, and Mary, her 
face glowing with happiness, left the room. 

Though the doctor had been with Robert every day 
for two weeks, he had to introduce himself as a man 
he had met for the first time. 

It was a time of wonders and miracles, when no 
event, no matter how extraordinary, surprised men, 
and no cure was attributed to mere surgical skilh 
Captain Warren had seen enough of war to be pre- 
pared for any circumstance that might surround him. 
He was not astonished to know that Doctor Newton 
had attended him under the advice of Doctor Hatchett 
for two weeks. Had it been two months or two years 
it would not have created wonder, for he had known 
of things more extraordinary, and before his wound 
he had lived for nearly two years surrounded by scenes 
more calculated to create surprise. He loved the 
cool, brave Richardson, the man who knew nothing 
beyond duty and obedience, who lived for the one 
object of country, and who valued his life as nothing 
to accomplish his purpose. He felt a thrill of pride 
when he learned from Doctor Newton that the daring 
lieutenant had been shot down in the vain effort to 
recover the body of his leader, Captain Warren, and 
he consoled himself with the thought that he would 
have done the same to save Richardson were he in 
danger during that terrible battle of Stone River. 
Men soon learn what they would do for a friend, and 
the acts of that friend may arouse gratitude, but not 
surprise. The captain was sorry to hear of the broken 
36 


422 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


leg and the death of Richardson’s favorite horse, but 
he forgot all about himself in the thought that Rich- 
ardson suffered in the line of duty. Duty! How 
soon a soldier learns that name, looking upon it as a 
synonym for friendship, courage, honor, and patriot- 
ism, forgetting in its very name the impulse that 
made himself to be a soldier. 

Robert listened with delight to Doctor Newton’s 
praise of his sister. He could not say enough in 
commendation of the noble girl, and he encouraged 
him to dwell on a subject so gratifying. 

The doctor was mysterious, not in a professional 
sense, for he knew Captain Warren cared not a fig for 
that great person, Death — men soon grow familiar 
with cross-bones and skull — but he alluded to Lieu- 
tenant Richardson in a way that brought up long-for- 
gotten incidents to the mind of the wounded man — 
days of peace and quiet, when returning from the 
hunt, he had seen Mary on the gallery sitting close to 
one whom he then loved, but since despised ; and he 
contrasted the tall, handsome rebel with the cool, 
polished Richardson, the man of principle and duty — 
the soldier who dared to do what his conscience 
taught him was right. 

No men reason like soldiers. War sharpens every 
faculty, and as Robert Warren turned his gashed head’ 
and felt the heavy incubus on his once powerful heart, 
he forgot wounds and pain, and saw his sister under 
the influence of Richardson. He did not need the 
soft words of the good doctor ; instinctively he under- 
stood the situation. 

The doctor left, congratulating the captain on his 
wonderful recovery and promising to call early on the 
morrow. 


ARCHY AND ROBERT. 


423 


The morrow came, with the doctor near the cap- 
tain* accompanied by Surgeon Hatchett, whom Robert 
at once gratefully recognized, and Mary, sitting at the 
head of the bed with the once strong hand sand- 
wiched between her own, so soft and womanly. 

Doctor Hatchett was more impulsive than Newton ? 
who imitated the cool Richardson. He felt the danger 
was over, and, after pressing Robert's hand, he began 
de novo and gave him a graphic sketch of his own 
sufferings — something Robert was blissfully ignorant 
of — and he closed with a record of Archy’s fidelity 
and patience which induced the captain to call for 
that worthy at once. 

As boys they had played and fought together. As 
youths they had hunted between the Brazos and Col- 
orado. As men they had dared to do right, and had 
suffered together. As a lad, Archy used to call his 
young master “ Mauss Bob," but after Robert returned 
from college in the North, the black man was more 
reserved, and used the early name only on important 
occasions. 

As Archy entered the room where the doctors and 
his young mistress were, near the bed of his master, 
he forgot all the intervening time between youth and 
manhood, and, rushing to the bed, he ejaculated as 
he knelt beside it : 

“ 'Fore Heaven, Mauss Bob, I ’s mor ’n glad yeh y s 
all right agin." 

Robert took one of Archy’s hands, and, with a 
shadow of the old smile on his pale, thin face, replied : 

“I am equally glad to see you, Archy. Last night 
I did not think I would ever see a friend in this world 
again." 


42 * 


WARDEN OF TEXAS* 


“Not las’ night, I reckon, mauss,” said Archy, 
las 1 night yeh wuz heah in de bed as quiet as a lamb. 
Why, it 's mor 'n two weeks since de battle.” 

“ Two weeks— two weeks !” Robert was going on 
in wonder, but Archy stopped him : 

“ Dar, dar, not one odder word ; de doctah says yell 
mustn't speak. Got to min' de doctah. Tank de 
Lor', yeh 's all squar agin*” 

“ It won’t hurt me to hear you talk, Archy* Tell 
me all about Mary, and how I came here,” said 
Robert, closing his eyes, the better to catch every 
expected word and as a sort of half promise that he 
would not talk again. 

“Wall, mauss, dunno ez I kin tell yeh all. Ain't 
got time nohow. Got to go see Mauss Richadson.” 

“ Lieutenant Richardson ! " exclaimed Robert. 
“Why, where is he?" What is wrong with him?” 

“Dar, yeh mus’ not say no more. Why, Mauss 
Richadson 's got a bail in de right leg. Gittin' on 
fuss rate. He tole me whar yeh wuz dat night, an’ 
de Lor’ knows ef I did n't sarcli an' hunt fur yeh. 
Dar’s no kinder use talkin’. It rained. Oh mighty, 
but it wuz cold an' rainy. Did n't 's*pec to see yeh 
alive. An’ when I foun’ yeh r 'bout daylight, yeh 
looked ez if yeh 'd bled all out. I wuz goin' to pick 
yeh up an’ tote yeh off, but I did n't know whar yeh 
wuz woun'ed, an' I did n’t want ter hurt yeh.” 

“ But you could not have hurt me, Archy, if I was 
dead?" 

“Dat's true, Mauss Robut ; but I ’pealed to de 
Lor’, an’ I kind o’ heerd a voice say in’ yeh wuz n’t 
dead, ez de good book says, but sleepin’. Den I jes’ 
hollered, an' some sojcrs kum up an' we toted yeh 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 


425 


off. I neber felt so strong in my life ez when 1 wuz 
a holdin’ on to dat ’ar stretcher.” 

“Well, Archy, you have been my guardian angel 
again,” said Robert, his eyes still closed. 

“ No, mauss, de good Lor’ sent an angel ob light 
to de fie? an’ guided me whar yeh wuz. Now do n’t 
talk no more. Doctah Newton says yeh mus n’t talk.’* 

“But who is Doctor Newton, Archy?” 

“ Why, Mauss Robut, he ’s Mauss Richadson’s 
brudder by a marry in’ ob his sister?” 

“ Whose sister, Archy ? ” 

“Why, Mauss Richadson’s.” 

“I know, but who married her?” 

Archy looked down and saw a smile on his master’s 
face, which was communicated to his own as he rose 
and said : 

“Yeh’s jes’ a foolin’ of me. ’Clare to Massy, I 
won’t say one odder word.” 

Robert was very anxious to have a long conversa- 
tion with his sister, but the doctor was inexorable. 
He promised, however, to let the captain talk for a 
short time with Miss Warren the next day, provided 
he remained perfectly quiet for the present. This 
Robert with a more than child-like docility promised 
to do, while he mentally objected to the medical dis- 
cipline. Still he felt easier and happier, despite his 
wounds, than he had done for a long time, and in his 
dreams the slender, girlish form seemed by his side, 
as she was in fact. 

At ten o’clock next morning the doctor, after dressing 
Robert’s wounds, pronounced him very much better, 
and, leading Mary to the side of the cot, he made her 
promise to do all the talking and left. 


426 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ I am very happy to have you here, little sister,” 
said Robert, taking her hand in his as she sat on the 
low camp-stool beside him. “ Come, tell me all about 
yourself since we parted. I have been mourning you 
as dead.” 

“ I would have been, brother, had I depended on 
my own poor strength for support. Before I left 
home I did not dream that I could have endured what 
lay before me, and yet, after more than a year of 
watching for you, here I am, strong, healthy, and 
happy, sad only at your sufferings and the troubles of 
the dear ones at home.” Mary laid her hand on 
Robert’s forehead as she spoke, and looked into 
his gray eyes with such a sweet, happy face that he 
felt a lump in his throat and a moisture about his eyes, 
and he closed them to hide the evidences of his hap- 
piness.. 

“Go on, sister,” he murmured, pressing her hand. 
“ I am very happy. Tell me all about yourself.” 

Then Mary, in a low, soft voice, that came like 
music from above to the wounded man, began the 
story already familiar to the reader. But over the 
parts where she was most conspicuous she suppressed 
the narration of her own sufferings ; but Robert knew 
her, and sighed as in imagination he saw the gentle 
girl, so unused to the world, suffering as she must 
have done. He knew pretty well her story down to 
her imprisonment at Nashville, and as she came to 
that part his hold on her hand tightened and he turned 
his head the better to catch her words. 

“ I felt very sorry for poor Tom. Henderson Town- 
send carried him off, and I presume he is with him 
now.” 



FRAZER. 


427 


‘‘Never mind about Tom, sister; tell me only about 
yourself.” 

“ I felt so conscious of no intention to do wrong 
that I did not dread the result. It was the order of 
the provost marshal to put me in jail, but the lieu, 
tenant was a kind, good man — poor fellow, he died 
here in hospital a few days ago. He was wounded at 
Stone River, and I nursed him till he passed away. 
Well, the lieutenant found the jail was full, and got 
permission to take me to a private family, the Frazers, 
relatives of his, where I was to remain to await my 
trial. The people were Confederates, but exceedingly 
good and kind, and so honest in their convictions that 
while their thoughtfulness won my heart their senti- 
ments on the war had my respect.. I was with this 
kind family at Nashville for nearly eight weeks, when 
the news came of the taking of Fort Donelson. I was 
still untried, and knew not how to act. Mrs. Frazer 
thought it would be very dangerous for me to remain 
behind till the Federal troops, as she called them, 
came in, and her family decided to move down to 
Columbia at once. I was so utterly alone and help- 
less that I determined to remain for the present with 
the Frazers, hoping an opportunity might present 
itself of getting into Kentucky or communicating with 
you. Lieutenant Charles Frazer, of the Fifth Ten- 
nessee Cavalry, was a very fine young gentleman, and 
he carried at different times a half-dozen letters and 
left them in post-offices where they might reach you, 
but I presume you never got them?” 

“Never,” said Robert, while he muttered, as if to 
remind himself: “Frazer — Frazer — Columbia — Fifth 
Tennessee ! With Wheeler — Mary.” 


m 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ Yes, brother.” 

“ It seems like a terrible dream — the sufferings of 
that night when I lay wounded on the field. I heard 
a man groan near me and I crawled to his side. He 
was wounded and dying. His name was Frazer, of 
the Fifth Tennessee. He must have been young, for 
he had no beard. I gave him a drink, and he died 
beside me asking me to take a message to his friends 
at Columbia. Poor boy, he was your friend.” 

“ He was, Robert,” and Mary bowed her head, and 
when again she raised it, her long lashes sparkled with 
tears of sorrow for the brave young Tennesseean. 

“ Go on, sister. Tell me the rest.” 

Mary continued : 

“ I remained with the Frazers during the spring 
and summer. Columbia was sometimes occupied by 
Union troops, sometimes by Confederates. Mr. 
Frazer had a place out of town, which was seldom 
visited by the soldiers of either side, but when I saw 
the Union troops I inquired for you, but could learn 
nothing about you. I busied myself in the meantime 
sewing and caring for the wounded of each side. One 
day, after Buell and Bragg passed south, I had a con- 
versation with Doctor Newton, in Columbia. He was 
a Union surgeon, and told me if I went on to Nash- 
ville, he would secure me a position as nurse in one 
of the hospitals, and at the same time he would do 
all in his power to find you. I came on here and with 
all my strength I have worked to relieve the brave 
men who have been fighting with you. Still I tried 
to find you. I heard from a soldier that he had see* 
you at Perryville, but that being in the cavalry it 
would be hard to find you. About ten days ago, *is I 


A LOYE AFFAIR. 


429 


was going to church, you may imagine my joy and 
surprise to see Arcliy coming directly toward me. 
Poor fellow, he was but a shadow of himself, and he 
was so delighted, I actually thought he would go 
wild. Now it seems Doctor Newton, who has been 
attending you all the time, knew the relation you sus- 
tained to me, but knowing you were desperately 
wounded, he kept the secret. However, I sought him 
out with Archy ; that cunning fellow would not take 
me to you first. The doctor was of course surprised ; 
he had given me charge, a day or two before, of Lieu- 
tenant Richardson, but that gentleman, though one 
of your officers, was as mute as a sea-turtle, though 
he knew who I was. And when I inquired about you, 
as I did from everybody, the lieutenant actually 
fibbed. But then he is such a good, noble fellow.” 
This was said with so much earnestness that Robert 
opened his eyes, looked at the blushing face of his 
sister, and said : 

“ So you really think Richardson is a good fellow? ” 

Without appearing to notice the interruption, Mary 
hurried on. 

“ Doctor Newton agreed to let me see you and nurse 
you on condition that I should never talk in the room, 
and that Archy should always ascertain if you were 
conscious before I entered. Of course, dear brother, 
I complied, ” said Mary as she stooped and kissed 
him ; then added, “ I will not tire you with the rest, 
you can imagine it.” 

She had hardly concluded when in walked Doctor 
Newton. Robert reached out his hand and thanked 
him for his kindness to himself and sister, but the 
doctor playfully informed him he must not talk, 


430 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


adding, “ If you remain quiet till to-morrow, captain, 
I have another agreeable surprise in store for you.” 

“ I will be mute as a mouse, doctor, but I should 
like to see Richardson,” said the captain. 

“ I have promised Albert to let him try his crutches 
in a few days, if he behaves. Then you can see him. 

Robert acquiesced, though he felt strong enough 
in his own opinion to respond to “ boots and sad- 
dles ” in the time it would take him to dress. 

The doctor, for reasons best known to himself, did 
not produce the promised agreeable surprise on the 
following day ; but on the one succeeding, after dress- 
ing the captain’s rapidly-healing wounds, he went out 
and soon returned, escorting in Gaines, Tennessee, 
Old Dawn, and Arkansas. Gaines walked a little 
lame, but in other respects he looked well, while 
Tennessee seemed himself again, excepting that his 
yellow hair and beard were shorter than he was ac- 
customed to wear them. 

The joy of all was unbounded at this meeting, and 
only the doctor’s presence prevented Robert from 
getting up and explaining all about himself to “ the 
boys ” while he made inquiries as to the state of their 
wounds. 

The interview was short, but the doctor assured 
Robert he could see the men again before they went to 
the front, for which they were then en route. 

Two weeks rolled past, during which time Robert 
grew daily stronger, and was permitted to dress and 
sit up for a few hours every afternoon. Gaines with 
the rest of the men had gone down the Mississippi, 
being ordered to join Sherman, then on the Yazoo. 
Richardson was still on crutches, and nevei let two 


THE CONVALESCENT COMRADES. 


431 


hours elapse without coming to see the captain when 
he was awake. The lieutenant’s manner seemed very 
much changed. He was no longer rese *ved. He was 
more than usually kind, and when Ma cy was present 
his voice softened and the expressio 1 of his face 
changed. Robert had his suspicions, but prudently 
kept them to himself. One day after he had grown 
so strong that he applied for a hospital discharge, and 
when Richardson had thrown away his crutches, Mary, 
who knew her brother would soon leave, reminded him 
about removing Lieutenant Frazer’s remains to Colum- 
bia, he having previously learned where the Tennes- 
seean was buried. After Robert had promised this, 
Mary was silent for some time. There was evidently 
something on her mind which she wished to commu- 
nicate to her brother. Robert knew this, and it was 
cruel in him not to help her. At length she mustered 
up courage, and pulling her chair close to his she took 
one of his hands in hers. 

“Brother Robert.” 

“Yes, sister Mary.” 

Robert was smoking, and blew a cloud toward the 
ceiling in which direction his face was turned, 

“You and Lieutenant Richardson will be together 
after you leave ?” 

“ I hope so, sister.” 

“Brother Robert, would you object to my writing 
to Lieutenant Richardson. You know he will be very 
lonely down by that miserable river near Vicksburg.” 

“Yes, sister, I will let him read the letters you send 
me ; I hope to get one, at least, every week.” 

“You do n’t think I ought to write to him, then?” 

“I do not wish to create that impression, Mary. 


432 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Has the lieutenant asked you to write ?” 

“ Why, of course, or I would not do it.” 

“ Then, my darling little sister, if it will make you 
and Richardson happier to write to each other, do so 
by all means.” Robert drew her closer to him, and 
laying aside his pipe he looked kindly into her half- 
frightened eyes. 

“Mary, the lieutenant loves you — I have thought so 
for a long time. Tell me, what are your feelings to- 
ward him?” 

“ I do not know, Robert,” said Mary, nestling closer 
to the broad chest. “ I respect him very much. He 
is so noble and brave, and seems to be nearer to you 
than some brothers. I cannot help feeling a more 
than usual interest in him.” 

“ I do not wonder at that, Mary. Richardson is one 
of the few thoroughly good men I ever met ; and, 
withal, he is positive. I like positive men.” 

“So do I, brother Robert.” 

“Very well; I love my litter sister so much, and 
have such confidence in her heart and good sense, that 
whatever she does is right to me.” Robert kissed 
her, and rising as he concluded he walked out, 
leaving her heart full of happiness. 

A few days after this, and the captain and his lieu- 
tenant went south to the Yazoo, while Mary remained 
behind, an angel in the hospital. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 


“THE CITY OF AN HUNDRED HILLS.” 

“ The Yankees might take Richmond,” but, with a 
romantic oath, Pemberton raid “ they could not take 
Vicksburg ;” and the Southern people believed this 
with good reason. In the early spring of ’63 Davis 
had been there, and in a speech to the garrison pro- 
nounced the place impregnable. He said “the com- 
bined armies of Yankeedom” could not take Vicks- 
burg “ with such defenders, provided they had provis- 
ions.’ 9 Then Pemberton vowed that if Vicksburg 
were besieged it would only surrender “when the last 
mule and rat had been eaten, and the last cartridge 
fired by the last man.” This sounded well, and those 
who subsequently denounced Pemberton as “ a traitor 
to the South ” applauded to the skies. 

Some philosopher has said “there is no such thing 
as an absolute falsehood.” It might be added, 
“There are grounds for every earnest assertion.” 
The Southern people were given to overestimate 
themselves, and underestimate their opponents ; 
still they had strong reasons for voting Vicksburg 
impregnable. From its southern batteries But- 
ler and Porter had been sent flying down the river, 
while Sherman and McClernand had assaulted its 
northern defenses on the Yazoo only to be repulsed. 
Even the former attempt of General Grant to reach 

Jackson from Grenada proved a complete failure. 

37 


434 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


When Grant assumed command of the Army of 
the Mississippi in the early spring of ’63, he illus- 
trated the tr-uth of the adage that “Where there’s a 
will there ’s a way.” Butler’s canal, intended to turn 
the channel of the Mississippi and leave Yicksburg 
“high and dry,” was a failure, and in the spring of 
the year named its stagnant waters were the paradise 
of frogs, while the Mississippi in a grand sweep rolled 
up against the cliffs and hills of Yicksburg. 

Robert Warren was glad to be transferred with his 
men to the Army of the Mississippi. It seemed like 
getting nearer his home when he scouted in the woods 
of Louisiana below Yicksburg, in which State two 
years before he had been a hunted fugitive. Gaines 
and Tennessee were with him, as w r as Archy, and he 
hoped for the day when they could all go back to the 
Caddo Lakes again and look upon the scene of the 
terrible storm of March two years before. 

It required a great deal of nerve to run the batte- 
ries before Yicksburg with steamers. Yet hundreds 
of brave men, acquainted with the bend, were ready 
to volunteer. Although several steamers were de- 
stroyed in their efforts to pass, enough got through 
for General Grant’s purpose. Down the west bank of 
the river to Bruinsboro’ the Army marched, and the 
steamers were there to ferry the troops across before 
the enemy was aware of Grant’s purpose. Defeat to 
the Union troops at this time would have been ruin, 
but to defeat that army would have been to annihilate 
it. Every man appreciated the position, and felt as 
if the success of the campaign depended on his own 
exertions. At Grand Gulf Pemberton was met, but 
it was only to hurl him back from the Mississippi to 


BEFORE VICKSBURG. 


435 


Port Gibson on the Bayou Per&. At Port Gibson, the 
most beautiful town in the South, Pemberton threw 
himself in Grant’s path ; but the opposition he offered 
hardly checked the rapid advance of the men bound 
for Vicksburg. Raymond, Champion Hills, Jackson, 
and the Big Black offered but points for a temporary 
resistance. Pemberton’s army, weakened by the loss 
of Loring, who was cut off by the Union Army, was 
driven into Vicksburg, and Grant’s triumphant legions 
encamped before ft, first feeling its gigantic works 
by a bloody and fruitless assault, then opening up 
communications with the North by way of Milliken’s 
Bend and the Yazoo. 

Captain Warren’s duties during this time were of 
the most arduous kind. The Union Army was be- 
tween two forces, viz., Pemberton in Vicksburg and 
Johnston at Jackson. An attack from both simulta- 
neously would have been disastrous, and it required 
the utmost vigilance to prevent concert of action 
between the rebel generals. 

In the early June Captain Warren was instructed 
to take a few men, including a telegraph operator, 
pass north between Canton and Jackson, tap the wires 
between the latter place and Brandon, and ascertain 
by every means the condition and strength of General 
Joe J ohnston’s army. It was an easy matter to obtain 
passes with the name of any Southern general on, in 
this case with the signature of General Johnston, so 
as to use them if necessary. 

At the time of the advance on Jackson, the Union 
Cavalry destroyed the railroad and telegraph wires 
east of Jackson to Pearl River, where they burned the 
bridge. It had been ascertained that neither the 


436 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


railroad nor wires had been repaired by Johnston, so 
that all dispatches for the east had to be sent by 
courier to Brandon, beyond the river, from which point 
stores for the Army went west by wagon. 

To reach Pearl River by the route laid down re- 
quired two days of hard riding, by unfrequeuted 
roads and across that portion of the country less apt 
to be traversed by the scouting or foraging parties 
of the enemy. 

The evening of the second day they struck the 
river north of what they learned was the Brandon 
Ferry, and in a pine wood they went into camp. Cap- 
tain Warren, Richardson, Tennessee, and a telegraph 
operator named Sailor, formerly of Dayton, Ohio, 
comprised the pArty. Sailor was familiar with the 
cypher used by the enemy at this time, though he 
was completely ignorant of that used by the com- 
manding officer of his own army. Up to this time 
they had met detached squads of the enemy without 
exciting suspicion. Indeed, from some of them 
Captain Warren learned much of importance relative 
to Johnston’s army. 

After going into camp, Tennessee was sent down 
near the road with instructions to watch for the 
couriers, who would be known by their dress and 
satchel, but by no means to halt any other person. 
They built no fire and all stood their watch, including 
the captain. Just before daylight Tennessee was on 
again, and before half an hour he came into camp 
conducting a young man who proved to be a courier 
going to Brandon with dispatches for Richmond, 
He was a handsome fellow, and wore a look of pro- 
found astonishment at his arrest by men whom he 
supposed to be friends. 


“YOU ARE A PRISONER ! ” 


437 


“Why do you detain me, sir?” lie asked, address- 
ing himself to Robert, whom he recognized from 
his manrer as the leader of the party. 

Moving further into the woods, Robert struck a 
light and ordered the courier to take off his satchel. 

“ I protest, sir, against this treatment,” said the 
courier. “ I have dispatches of importance, and I 
promised to get them to Brandon early this morning. 
Here are my papers ; you can see I am permitted to 
pass and repass all pickets and guards without deten- 
tion.” 

“ I do not doubt but your papers, under other cir- 
cumstances, would pass you to and from Brandon, but 
where I come from they would be useless,” said the 
captain. 

“ What ! ” exclaimed the courier in amazement, 
“ are you Yankees?” 

“We are, sir, and you are our prisoner,” was the 
reply. 

The courier on hearing this sat down and wept like 
a child. 

“You have done your duty,” said Robert, laying 
his hand on the courier’s shoulder, “ and are not to 
blame for what is a fortune of war. In one hour I 
intend starting for Vicksburg. Our saddle-bags are 
tilled with percussion caps for Pemberton’s men.” 

The courier looked up in wonder, while Robert 
continued : “ I wish I had *hese papers without you. 
I cannot parole you. It is nearly impossible to take 
you through with me. I do not know what to do with 
you.’ 

“ I do, sir ! ” said the courier, rising hastily. “ Here, 
shoot me ! for I do not want to live under a disgrace.’ 

37 * 


438 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“I regret that war should make me the foe of so 
brave a man,” said the captain, “ but you see my po- 
sition, and you know the law about self-preserva- 
tion ? ” 

“ I do, sir. I expect what I desire — death. Last 
night I agreed with my horse to take those des- 
patches for General Johnston two hours shorter than 
his best courier. Now I am a prisoner and the blame 
will be on me.” 

Robert walked aside and consulted with Richard- 
son for a few minutes, then came back. 

“If you agree to my plan,” he said, addressing the 
prisoner, “ I will promise that before forty-eight hours 
General J ohnston learns all about your gallant conduct 
and the manner of your capture. In giving your re- 
ply to me, consider well the importance of your word, 
and before giving a negative think of those at home 
who are dear to you. I cannot parole you. If you 
will submit to being disguised and will pledge that 
you will make no attempt at escape till we reach the 
Big Black, I will take you through and release you 
there. If you do not agree to this you court your own 
death to save the lives of your enemies.’ ’ 

The courier held down his head for a few minutes, 
weighing the, to him, all-important question of life or 
death. He made up his mind, and rising, he extended 
his hand to the captain. 

“ I will go with you, sir, for my mother’s sake, if 
you promise to send a letter from some point before 
reaching your lines to General Johnston.” 

“ I shall certainly do so,” said Robert, and he had 
hardly finished speaking before a bugle sounded near 
the ferry, and Tennessee hastened back te say a regi- 


HEADING THE CIPHER SECRET. 439 

raent of cavalry was moving in the direction of Jack- 
son. 

They waited till the regiment had a good start 
ahead, then Richardson changed the appearance of 
the courier by making him exchange clothes and put- 
ting a huge pair of brown whiskers on the smooth, 
boyish face. In the meantime Tennessee put his own 
equipments on the courier’s horse, after he had dark- 
ened the white star on the beautiful animal’s head, 
and trimmed very closely the flowing tail and mane- 

Before starting Sailor had read the cipher, and it, 
with the rest of the papers found on the person of 
the courier, was destroyed. As they rode along, tak- 
ing a route south of Jackson in the direction of Crys- 
tal Springs, Sailor informed Robert that one of the 
dispatches read : “It would be imprudent to cross the 
Big Black with twenty thousand men and no artil- 
lery.” This was addressed to “President Davis, 
Richmond, Ya.” 

“ This is all he wants to know. I think the general 
will smoke without much concern after hearing that,” 
said Robert. 

“ Yes, if we only gits to give him the news without 
bein’ onpleasantly interfered with on the way,” said 
Tennessee, dryly, and with a queer twinkle in his blue 
eyes that looked like a smile, but meant anxiety. 

<c Half the work is over, Tennessee,” said Robert. 
‘ Though we will have ridden over two hundred miles 
to secure a few words, they will be worth a corps to 
Graut, and we must get them to him.” 

The country through which they passed returning 
was a little better than the one by which they had 
come. The soil was light, and forests of pine, with 


*40 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


an undergrowth of fan palm and huge ferns, lined the 
road for much of the distance. Here and there was 
to be seen a clearing, with fields of cotton or corn sur- 
rounding the pretentious ‘ 8 white folks’ house” and 
log cabins of the negroes. Now and then a black- 
smith’s shop by the roadside, surrounded by crippled 
wagons, and occasionally a negro driving unconcern- 
edly his double mule-team, were the only objects that 
broke the monotony of the undulating country be- 
tween the ferry at Pearl River and Crystal Springs. 
Near the latter place, early in the evening, the scouts 
went into camp some distance from the road, while 
Robert rode into town, or rather into the pleasant 
little village, to obtain supplies and learn what he 
could about the enemy. As he expected, there were 
no troops stationed there, but there were many sol- 
diers on leave and furlough lounging about the tavern. 
It w T as wonderful to think of the liberality of the 
Southern officers with their men. In ’63 every male 
from sixteen to sixty was looked on as a soldier, and 
two-thirds of their number would have outnumbered 
the Union Army at any time, but they straggled, got 
off on slight pretexts, and with an utter lack of inter- 
est in their cause they left the fighting to the minor- 
ity, and stood ready to demand the glory if the South 
was successful. And as a rule these skulkers were 
the men who, on the agitation of secession, were 
loudest in their demands for separation, and through 
the war bitterest in their denunciations of the North. 
Only the devoted heroism of the minority that did 
fight can give to the Southern people a claim for pat- 
riotic self-denial. 

Crystal Springs, though not made up of planters’ 


AN ENCOUNTER— AUDACITY. 


441 


residences, as is Port Gibson, is still a very pretty vil- 
lage for that latitude, with more evidences of home 
eomfort than are usually to be met with in Southern 
towns. Robert spent an hour very profitably in the 
place, and while there he wrote and posted a letter to 
the officer commanding the Confederate forces at 
Jackson, explaining the capture of the courier. This 
he did with a feeling of safety, as he hoped to be in 
Vicksburg in twenty-four hours, or before the mail 
would start from the Springs. 

Returning to camp Robert formed the reliefs, with 
orders to keep a strict watch over the prisoner, 
though, as it proved, the word of the courier first given 
was a sufficient guarantee for his conduct. 

Early next morning the scouts were in the saddle. 
Fifty miles lay between them and Vicksburg, with 
the Big Black to swim and the rebel scouts east of 
it to elude. All went well until two in the afternoon, 
when Robert, on ascending a slope, saw ahead on the 
road a large body of Confederate cavalry, half hidden 
in the cloud of dust it raised, advancing toward him. 
He determined to ride on, and without halting he 
posted the scouts to break and make for Vicksburg in 
case of discovery. Instructing Tennessee to watch 
the prisoner, he and Richardson rode ahead some 
distance. The officer in command of the cavalry was 
some distance ahead of the line with his staff, and as 
Robert approached he called out : 

“Halt, there! which way are you going, sir?” at 
the same time he dispatched an officer to stop the 
column. 

“I am going to Vicksburg, sir,” replied Robert. 

“ The h — 1 you are ! What do you intend doing 


442 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


there?” asked the officer in a tone of incredulity and 
surprise. 

‘Read that, sir,” said Robert, handing the officer 
a note as he turned and with his hand halted his little 
band. 

The officer, judging from the time his eyes were on 
the paper, must have read it over half a dozen times. 

‘“Captain Warren/” he muttered, as if criticising 
the paper in his hand, “ ‘going to Vicksburg with 
caps, Is to go back and report to J ohnston * — Pember- 
ton's signature, sure.” Then glancing at the captain 
with a look of admiration he said : “ Young man, do n't 
you know you are playing a terrible game ? — going on 
a d — d desperate enterprise?” 

“I know it, sir,” replied the captain ; “but w r e are 
d — d desperate men !" 

“ Spoken like a hero, by the Gods ! Give me your 
hand, Captain Warren. My name is Scott, Colonel 
Scott," said the officer, seizing the captain's hand. 

“ Oh, I think,” said the captain, “I met you in 
Kentucky last summer, with Bragg?” said Robert, in- 
quiringly. 

The colonel laughed. 

“You are very near right, captain. I was in there 
with Kirby Smith, who is now at Shreveport, and a 
gallant officer.” 

“ Yes, we were all mixed up there for a while, so 
that I am excusable for mistaking the army you were 
attached to.” 

“Perfectly excusable, captain, about the army 
One thing you could not mistake — the cause I was at- 
tached to. We were under the same flag.” 

“ We were under the same flag,” repeated the cap- 


THE REBEL COURIER RELEASED. 


443 


tain, with an emphasis whose full meaning Colonel 
Scott did not then know. 

“By the way, colonel, what are the chances for 
Vicksburg ?” asked Robert, determined to direct the 
current of their conversation. 

“D — n poor, captain. I think, however, the place 
cannot be carried by assault. Our only fear, between 
us, is Pemberton. Pemberton, you know, is a Yankee, 
and, curse them ! I do not trust them, even when they 
have sworn to protect our flag. W e hope to strengthen 
J ohnston so as to warrant his crossing the Big Black. 
At thesametime we are annoying the Yankee outposts, 
and bothering them like the devil with our light ar- 
tillery on the river. I am now on the way to join an 
expedition for Yazoo City. There are a lot of 
smoked Yankees [negroes] there, and before two days 
we will make them wish themselves back in slavery.” 

“ I wish you a deserved success, colonel.” 

“ I know that, captain. Now draw your men aside 
and let me pass, and when the war is over come and 
see me, at Cahaba, Alabama. Good bye ! God bless 
you, old fellow.” 

Robert clasped the brave fellow’s hand warmly, and 
drew his men in line along the roadside, where all, 
including the young courier, saluted Colonel Scott 
and his command as it passed. 

The scouts breathed easier as the last Confederate 
passed, and the moving column of dust told them they 
were out of immediate danger. 

An hour’s ride took them to the Big Black, where 
Robert returned the courier his horse, much to Ten- 
nessee’s disgust, and thanking him for the honor he 
had displayed, he told him he was at liberty to return. 


444 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The courier before leaving expressed, in a feeling 
way, his admiration for the men who could risk so 
much for their cause. “Before I met you, Captain 
Warren, I looked upon your army as a set of mer- 
cenary hirelings. Henceforth I will believe there are 
brave men in it willing to risk all for what they con- 
sider duty.” 

“Our army has but few men who would not do 
what I am willing to for the Union, and after we pass 
away, three millions of men, equally earnest, are 
ready to take our places. Tell this to your friends, 
and help to bring about peace.” 

The young man gave no reply, but, shaking hands 
with all, he rode slowly back, looking behind him 
at times, till he saw the dripping horsemen emerge on 
the west bank of the Big Black, then he shook his 
bridle, and with his dashing horse was soon lost be- 
yond the slope. 

Before the sun went down the scouts had reported, 
and Grant tightened his hold on Vicksburg, without 
a fear of the army at Jackson. Two days after this 
there was an attack on Yazoo City, but there were 
more than “smoked Yankees” to meet the rebels, and 
one Yankee outpost was prepared for the intended 
surprise. 

It would thrill, even now, to recall the story of that 
glorious siege. The bloody assaults of the besiegers, 
the reckless sorties of the besieged ; the mine and 
attack, and the daily approach of the inflexible lines 
and ubiquitous gunboats; the nights when the fiery 
path of signal lights and screeching shells from the 
river and the land showed there was no rest for the 
determined army till its mission was complete. July 


VICKSBURG SUCCUMBS. 


445 


4th, most auspicious of days, came around, and with 
it the white flags, and the silenced forts, and Pem- 
berton’s thirty- five thousand men, with artillery parked 
and arms grounded, and the banner of the Union 
floating over all. Bravely and well the garrison of 
Vicksburg fought ; but the silly boast of the last 
man, last cartridge, last mule, and last rat was not 
carried out. They “ lived to fight another day,” 
the majority without being exchanged. 

And the night of the 4th saw Burnside’s men on 
the road to Jackson, from which Johnston was hurled 
back before he knew that Vicksburg had fallen. 

The day after the siege the captain received a 
letter from Mary, saying that Addison was wounded 
and a prisoner at Nashville. In a sweet, womanly 
way she regretted the suffering of the man once so 
dear to her, and deplored the military order which 
was to send him to Gamp Douglas when strong enough 
to move. “He was very destitute when brought in,” 
she said, “ and it did my heart good to be able 
to care for him, and, without wounding his pride, 
to give him the means of purchasing little trifles, 
which he will not crave for if he has money. The 
old feeling died long ago ; but, thank God, the 
theory of woman’s love turning to hate does not 
apply to my case. Now that he has fought so bravely, 
I would not have him change if I could ; but I pray 
that his heart may be opened. 

“You must be careful of yourself, my brother; for 
remember the happiness of more than your little 
sister depends on your safe return. I shall write 
often, and would make this longer, but a lot of my 
‘boys’ are at the door, and I hear the clatter of 
38 


446 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


crutches coming up behind me. Sometimes I read 
for them. I have love letters to write for them 
daily, and I have become an, expert at the games of 
4 Old Maid’ and 4 Muggings/ I play the latter game 
very often with a dear little sergeant. Poor boy ! he 
was badly wounded with Posecrans ; but he looks so 
good and happy, even with his sufferings, that he re- 
minds me of you, and I call him 4 my little brother/ 
while at the same time I ask God to bless that big 
^brother at the front and return him in safety to his 
44 Affectionate sister, Mary.” 

A look of pride and intense satisfaction came over 
the bronzed face of the soldier as he read this letter, 
so indicative of self-denial from the once child of 
luxury and ease. With the letter held in his hand as 
he sat before the camp-fire, he thought to himself of 
the noble influence exercised by such women on the 
war, and the good done by the ministering angels 
who gave up home and comfort for trial and hardship 
to carry out their love for their country and race. 
God placed her so high and made her so pure that 
her fall, if it comes, is great, and the stain is more 
indelible than in the case of less sensitive man. The 
merits of the Union and Southern causes could at any 
time be seen, by one disinterested, in the action of 
the women of each section. To the North, charity, 
mercy, and patriotism were the ruling emotions. To 
the South, patriotism, mcited by hate ; but mercy 
was dead in the hearts of women who would poison 
water in the path of their foes ; who would cast off 
the wounded wretch that crawled to her doorstep for 
rest, and taunt and insult him in his very helplessness. 
In the South the smile of a woman with rebel sympa- 


NORTHERN VERSUS SOUTHERN WOMEN. 447 


thies was never seen in the hospitals where northern 
wounded lay ; and the dwellers in the prison-pens will 
all remember some woman who saw their sufferings 
to gloat over their misery. 

If in the unseen world there be an intermediate 
state, there will be but few spirits of women there. 
Purgatory is the abode of the indifferent. Who ever 
heard of such a woman ? Among the pleasing recol- 
lections of those days is that of the women of the 
North, who, by presence and deeds, reminded their 
brothers in every hour of trial of their deep devotion 
to the cause ; and thinking of her well-filled mission 
as an angel of mercy, the soldier feels that if in the 
better land the angels have sex, the spirits of women 
must rest nearer to the Throne, and then \oices must 
sing the sweeter song praise. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


THE CONFEDERACY BISECTED. 

It was a beautiful thought of the great general, 
after the fall of the Mississippi strongholds, to say in 
his dispatch after Vicksburg, “The Father of Waters 
flows unvexed to the sea.” The Confederacy was 
bisected in July, ’63, and to prevent communication 
between the sections, gunboats were stationed at 
intervals along the river, while others patroled it day 
and night to prevent the enemy from crossing with 
mails. Every skiff on the river was destroyed, and 
scouting parties searched every creek and bayou for 
canoes, rafts, and boats which the people on the river 
might have secreted. Despite this vigilance the wings 
of the Confederacy were in daily communication. 
Copies of Shreveport papers obtained by the scouts a few 
weeks after the fall of Vicksburg contained news from 
the East subsequent to the Union control of the river. 

Captain Warren received orders form the officer 
commanding at Vicksburg to take whatever men he 
needed and find out where the rebels crossed their 
mails. Tennessee, whose acquaintance with North- 
eastern Georgia rendered him invaluable to the army 
there, was sent to Rosecrans after the fall of Vicksburg. 
Captain Warren missed him very much, and when 
they parted it was with the mutual pledge to meet 
at the close of the war, and go to Texas together ; 


AGAIN IN THE SADDLE. 


449 


Tennessee promising to live on the Brazos if Robert 
would agree to spend some of every month hunting 
with him. Old man Dawn and little Ned remained 
with Captain Warren, and he promised Tennessee to 
bring them out all right when the fight was over. 

Robert selected Gaines, Richardson, Old Dawn, Lit- 
tle Ned — now a learned young man, as tall as his 
uncle — and Archy to accompany him. 

His plan was to enter the neutral country near Port 
Gibson, where all the people were southern in their 
feeling, and, by pretending to be on furlough from the 
Eighth Texas, to interest the people in his crossing, 
and in that way to find out the underground route to 
Shreveport. Preparing such papers as he would need 
to substantiate the character he was about to assume, 
the scouts mounted and turned their horses’ heads 
toward the scenes of former exploits. They left the 
Walnut Hill above Vicksburg about noon of the 27 th, 
and before night they were beyond the Big Black 
and in the neutral territory, where the enemy had no 
organized troops. The scout must reason in the same 
way as a general commanding a larger expedition. 
Indeed, an error of judgment would be more fatal to 
the scout than to the superior officer. Captain War- 
ren knew that if the enemy was crossing mails he 
would carry them as far as possible by rail, and that 
on the line between the railroad terminus at Bran- 
don and the river he would find the information he 
needed. He could not go to Brandon with safety, for 
it was in the hands of the enemy, and he feared 
meeting the courier or any of Colonel Scott’s men, 
who were so badly beaten at Yazoo City through his 
instrumentality. 


38 * 


t50 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Hobart’s Station, a place burned by Grierson on his 
famous raid, was the point aimed at, and early on the 
following morning the scouts entered the place. As 
they sat on their horses looking at the ruins of the 
depot, two men came up, one dressed in a Confed- 
erate uniform. 

“Who did that?” asked Captain Warren, pointing 
to the ruins after he had saluted the strangers. 

“The Yanks, whin they raided through har,” said 
the soldier in a quiet tone, while his companion, with 
a New England inquisitiveness, asked : 

“ Whar mout you an’ your friens be agoin’, stranger? 
We haint got no troops about har.” 

“ I am going west of the Mississippi if I can make 
it with my friends. We are just from our army, and 
are going home on furlough,” said the captain. 

“ Wall, stranger, you’ve got a hard road afore you. 
Some fellars, though, passes har a goin’ west. Do n’t 
know how they gits across, but I reckon they does, 
*eein’ as how they do n’t come back.” 

This information was given by the old man. 

“I intend staying about here to-day,” said Robert ; 
“our horses are tired, and I want to learn all I can 
about the crossing. By the way, my friend, can you 
tell me where I can get our animals cared for ? I am 
willing to pay well for it.” 

The old man replied to Robert : “ I reckon we kin 
keer for you an’ the hosses, if you kin put up with 
what we has — hog an’ hominy.” 

“That is just what we Texans were raised on,” 
said Robert. ‘ 4 But we care more for our horses, as 
all cavalrymen should, than we do for ourselves.” 

The old man led the way to a house on the out- 


HUNTING THE CROSSING. 


45 ; 


skirts of the little village, where, with his limited 
accommodations, he did everything in his power for 
the comfort of man and beast. 

During the day Robert moved about, talking with 
the people, and he succeeded in learning that Mr. 
Stockhouse, who lived near Port Gibson, knew some- 
thing about the crossing, as the mail carriers stopped 
at his place. Early next morning Robert paid the 
kind-hearted Mississippian the moderate sum of one 
hundred dollars in graybacks for the accommodation 
of himself and friends, and started for Port Gibson 
to find Mr. Stockhouse. 

They reached Port Gibson about the middle of the 
afternoon, and with little difficulty ascertained the 
whereabouts of the Siockliouse plantation on the 
Bayou Perfe. Mr. Stockhouse was a short, florid, 
little man, somewhat advanced in years, with a young 
wife and an old daughter by a former marriage. He 
agreed willingly to let Warren and his friends remain 
all night, but he plead a total ignorance of mails and 
mail-carriers. Miss Stockhouse was very agreeable, 
and Mi’s. Stockhouse more so. From the latter lady 
the captain learned that a gentleman named Arkles, 
living near Bruinsboro’, had a boat, with which, for 
a consideration, he was willing to transport men bound 
west across the Mississippi.^ The next morning the 
captain named Arkles to Mr. Stockhouse, and asked 
for a letter to him. Mr. Stockhouse at first expressed 
surprise, but finally consented to write to Mr. Arkles 
though he assured the captain he knew nothing about 
the crossing, and he questioned if Mr. Arkles did. 
Mr. Stockhouse, though “a good Southern man,” did 
not object to taking as large a sum of money as the 


452 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


scouts ha cl paid the previous night. The ride to Mr. 
Arkles’s plantation was once familiar ground — the 
very territory traversed by Grant in his advance on 
Vicksburg. 

About the middle of the afternoon of the day they 
left Mr. Stockhouse’s, Captain Warren and his friends 
reached Mr. Arkles’s, about four miles from the Mis- 
sissippi River. Mr. Arkles was a wealthy planter. 
He was a Northern man, and seemed to have but one 
object, viz., the saving of his large plantation from 
the people of either side. 

To Captain Warren he was extremely reticent. He 
knew nothing about crossing the river. When the 
Federal troops under Grant had passed there he had 
taken the oath of allegiance, and no inducement 
could make him change. His honor and his conscience 
were alike bound by that oath. 

Captain Warren presented his side of the case. He 
was a Texan, with a limited furlough. He wished to 
cross the Mississippi, and money with him was no 
object. He further urged that an oath under the cir- 
cumstances represented by Mr. Arkles was not bind- 
ing, and beyond that there was a duty which every 
good man should not neglect — this was the duty he 
owed to himself and to the Confederacy. 

After Captain Warren’s half-indignant speech on 
this subject Mr. Arkles stroked his thin beard and 
called him aside. 

“I know, captain,” he said, “you are a good man. 
I can see that in your face, and I ain’t one of them 
as can be sold. But I tell you the truth, I am play- 
ing a pretty bold game. The Yanks have destroyed 
every skiff on the river, and believe they have full 


“AS INNOCENT AS A LAMB.” 


453 


control of the Mississippi. They have, so far as their 
gunboats are concerned ; but I was born in Yankee 
land, and I can pull the wool over their eyes. I have 
built a skiff, which is now out in the gin-house. It 
fits like a box in a wagon. I can put it on wheels, 
and no man would know wh.it it meant but myself. 
I can take the box off on the banks of the river, and 
after I have sent over our friends I can put the box 
on the wagon and come back here as innocent as a 
lamb.” 

“ I am delighted to hear you speak so, Mr. Arkles,” 
said the captain. “ I suppose you took your oath with 
a mental reservation. Now tell me when you can 
take us across.” 

“ I hope to be able to put you over to-night. Mr. 
Hose, of Shreveport, is expected here every hour from 
Brandon. He is a splendid fellow. He hates Yan- 
kees like the devil and feels proud of having thinned 
out a few. I just wish we had more men like him. 
I bet there would n’t be many Yankee prisoners taken. 
He ’s just as full of fight as a wild-cat.’ * 

“I shall be more than happy to get over the river 
with your friend, Mr. Bose,” said the captain as they 
walked from the gin-house, where the boat was con- 
cealed, to the house. 

The residence of Mr. Arkles was like that of the 
majority of Southern planters, low and flat, with a 
wide gallery around it. As they sat upon the piazza, 
after the evening meal, enjoying their pipes while they 
listened to Mr. Arkles’ s description of the Yankee 
advance from the river to Vicksburg, a large man, 
about forty years of age, mounted on a powerful 
horse, rode up to the gallery and dismounted. The 


454 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


animal stood quietly while the rider, after dism mnt> 
ing, lifted off the heavy saddle-bags and unloosed the 
pistol holsters and threw them over his arm. He was 
a powerful man, over six feet in height, with coarse 
features, rendered more repulsive by a gash over the 
right eye and a broken nose, with the wide nostrils 
starting, apparently, from the broad, brown face. 

Throwing the bricMe of his horse to a black man, 
who approached as he dismounted, he walked* with 
the saddle-bags and holsters on his powerful arm to- 
ward the house. 

“ Hello, Arkles, got the boat all right ?” asked 
Ilose, in a voice so familiar that Robert could hardly 
retain his seat. 

“ Glad to see you, Rose. Got the boat safe still. 

I take a pride in being able to fool the d d Yan 

kees. By the w T ay, come over here this was said 
with a motion of the hand to Rose, who was about 
to enter the house. “ Come, I want to introduce you 
to some men who are going to Texas.” 

Rose turned, and, with a suspicious look on his 
coarse face, said, as he shook hands with the party : 

“Going to Texas, are yeh? Well, the less com- 
pany I have the better ; but if you ’re boun’ that way 
I reckon we kin make out together. Ever in Texas 
afore ? ” 

•* Oh yes ; was raised there. Have relatives liv- 
ing below Houston. Have been making my home in 
Kentucky, but the Yanks are in there now, and I am 
going west to spend my furlough — perhaps to join 
our forces over there.” 

“ Well, I believe your name ’s Clay ; is it?” 

“ Yes, a part of it, Mr. Rose.” 


THE HOUR AND THE MAN. 


455 


41 Know anybody around Brazoria, perhaps ?” 

“Oh, lots of people.” 

“ The h — 1 you say ! Wall, I knows some of ’em, 
an’ I reckon some of ’em knows Sam Rose. We ’ll 
talk agin afore we start.” 

Rose called Mr. Arkles aside and strode into the 
house. 

“ He does n’t know us, Robert, but we know him. 
Thank God for this chance. 1 have prayed for it. 
When we drifted off on that raft I seemed to think 
more of meeting this fellow and living for it than 
anything else.” 

“ Hush, Gaines,” said the captain. “‘Time at last 
sets ail things even.’ We have watclted our hour. 
Come, let us look at the horses.” 

The scouts went to the stable, where Archy was 
busy cleaning the horses, and in a short time Mr. 
Arkles, who had left Rose smoking on the gallery } 
joined them. 

“Rose is narvous,” said Mr. Arkles. “You see he 
has a whole lot of letters and papers and money for 
Kirby Smith, and in these times one do n’t know who 
to trust. I ’ve fixed it right, I reckon, but afore you 
leave to-night won’t you show him your papers?” 

“ Why, certainly,” said the captain. “ I will show 
Mr. Rose my papers ; and say to him for me that I ad- 
mire his caution, and will do all I can to get him over 
the river safely.” 

Mr. Arkles left with a look of comfort on his face, 
and on Iris return to the house the captain convinced 
Mr. Rose of his earnestness by showing his papers and 
offering his services to aid him in his important un- 
dertaking. 


456 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ I ’m glad to have you along, sir ; but yeh knows 
one has to be keerful. I’ve seen so many dogon’d 
skunks that I ’ve begun to doubt my own brother — • 
that is, I would doubt him if I had one,” added Hose, 
correcting himself. 

“ All men bound by kindred interests, or battling 
for a common principle, are brothers. Let me hope,” 
said the captain, “that no fear you may have enter- 
tained may prevent your confiding in me fully if an 
occasion should arise.” 

“ I ’ll lean on yeh, cap. Come, let ’s have some 
of Arkles’s old peach to confirm our acquaintance ! ” 

All the men availed themselves of Rose’s invita- 
tion, and aft?r the old peach they betook themselves 
to the gallery and pipes. 

“ I belong to Gould’s Cavalry,” said Rose, in answer 
to an inquiry of Gaines. “ We ’ve been stationed near 
Cadder Lake for a long while, but when Vicksburg 
went up, as I know’d the country -well, I was detailed 
as a courier; an’, atween us, I makes it pay.” 

“You are right, Mr. Rose, to take care of No. 1, 
particularly if it is in the line of duty,” said Rich- 
ardson, with a cold smile. 

“ I tell you, cap.,” said Rose, turning to Robert and 
blowing a cloud of smoke from his corn-cob pipe, 
“I came near making a pile out of some runaway 
fellers from the part of the country you are going to.” 

“You don’t say! Tell me all about it,” said 
Robert, in a tone of genuine interest. 

“Wall, yeh see, ’twuz in the spring of ’61, arter 
we ’d voted out, thar wuz a feller named Warren — 
maybe yeh know’d him ? ” 

“I think I did,” said Robert, seeing that Rose 
stopped for answer. 


BRAVADO. 


45 ? 


“You see,” continued Eose, “this feller Warren, 
with another cuss an* a nigger, killed a whole lot of 
folks in the woods near the town the night of the 
election. Wall, they runned off up by Marshall an* 
the lakes, an* a chap named Bentley arfcer them.” 

“ Oh yes, Bentley ! I knew Bentley ; he was after- 
wards in the Eighth Texas Cavalry. Poor, brave fel- 
low, he was killed last year.” 

Eose waited till Eobert had finished before he 
puffed out the smoke, which swelled his brown cheeks 
till they looked as if they would burst. 

“ Yas, Bentley wuz purty fair, a little chicken- 
hearted though ; but Warren—glad you do n't know 
much of him ; he was a cuss. Bentley got me tef 
help him arter Warren an* the other two. A party 
of us chased ’em down the Shreveport road, an’ we ’d 
a got ’em as sure as shootin’ if it was n’t for an onery 
houn’ named Tennessee we had along. He helped 
’em inter the bottom whar he had a frien’ named Tad, 
but somehow they got off, though I never see’d sich 
a flood as followed. We cotched Tad, though he fit 
like a catamount, an’ wuz wounded, but we swung the 
onery whelp to a tree near the creek an’ burned down 
his d d shanty.” 

“You deserve a great deal of credit for your ser- 
vices, Mr. Eose.” As the captain spoke his lips grew 
thin and hard-looking, and his gray eyes seemed to 
grow black, while Gaines, to hide his own feelings, 
walked to the end of the gallery. Eose did not notice 
the change. He was completely off his guard, and 
he continued with an air of bravado : 

“I think if ev’ry one did his duty like me thar 
would n’t be many Yankees left. I often thinks of 
39 


458 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 

that spring an’ the number of onery houi'^ I helped 
string up.” r 

“I presume you have been in battle, judging from 
that wound on your face?” said the captain, in an in- 
quinng tone. 

“Wall, no; I’ve never teen egsactly in battle,” 
said Rose, rubbing his finger over the livid wound till 
it left a white mark and increased the hideousness of 
is face, “but I got that in a fight as wuz a fight. 
Cuss that black-hearted Warren, I say. Every time 
see or feel this woun’ I cuss the houn’, an’ long ter 
meet him an’ cut his Yankee throat ! ” 

Rose’s wound became more livid, his eyes rolled 
and the thick veins stood out like whip-cords in his 
bull-like neck. 

Why, I did not suppose, from your story, that you 
ever saw or had an encounter with this man Warren,” 
said the captain, as he leaned over and knocked the 
ashes from his pipe on the edge of the gallery 

“ No more I did n’t fight him, ’cept one night in the 
dark ; but we got that feller Tennessee arter, an’ he 
alius wuz a devil. He showed fight, and mashed me 
here with his rifle.” 

“Of course you hanged this fellow you call Ten- 
nessee?” said the captain. 

“ Wall, no, but we tried dogon’d hard. We put him 
in jail an’ give him a fair trial. Of course, he wuz 
sentmced ; we all know’d that ; but somehow he got off 
one night, an’ I heerd since as how he ’d joined Warren 
who ’s captain or suthin’ of a lot of horse-thieves.’’ 

“ You don ’t tell me ! Is this Warren still in the 
Yankee army?” asked Richardson with the shadow 
of a smile on his quiet face. 


CHIVALRIC PRACTICES. 


459 


“ Oh, yes. He ’s h — 1 on hosses. He stole Whar- 
ion’s boss, I heard. He courts southern girls inside 
our lines. An’ I jist heard a few days since as how 
he writ a letter to Joe J ohnston. He can make him- 
self black or white. I heard a man say he could 
grow a whole crop of beard in one night. An’ some 
of the boys thinks the devil helps him. But some 
day they’ll catch him, and then the devil won ’t save 
him. That ’s what I ’s got to say.” 

Bose refilled his pipe, while Robert said : 

“ You have interested me very much, Mr. Rose. 
Let me hope this fellow Tennessee had enough 
property to confiscate to remunerate you, at least in 
satisfaction.” 

“ No, he was poor as a Digger 'Ingin at Christmas. 
He had a wife an’ some children, an’ a shanty, an’ he 
left them behind.” 

“ That would be rather poor stock to confiscate, 
Mr. Rose?” 

“Yes, poor for the government, but cap, ’twas 
enough for me. It mayn ’t look jes’ right to folks as 
reads the Bible an’ sings hymns, but a feller as has 
a woun’ on his face, an’ mad in his heart, don ’t stop 
ter consult about goodness. Some one fired that ar 
shanty whar Tennessee’s wife lived, an’ when she got 
another that was fired too. She wuz a sassy white 
wench as ever lived. She moved up to Tyler, but her 
house wuz fired thar. An’ her young ones got sick, 
an’ tliar’s not one of Tennessee’s whelps a livin’. Of 
course I knows nothin’ about it. His wife ’s among 
the Ingins, I hear. It don ’t pay to fool with Sam 
Rose.” 

A low chuckle, that sent the hot blood back from 


460 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


the flushed cheeks of Robert Warren, succeeded this 
narration. 

“I suppose we will start soon, Mr. Rose? It is 
nearly dark now.” 

“ Yas, jes’ as soon as the critters feel right. They 
have a long swim before them,” replied Rose. 

Robert suggested walking down to see the horses, 
but Rose announced his intention to take no unneces- 
sary exercise. 

At the stable Arehy was busy with the horses, and 
as soon as the captain made his appearance, he called 
him aside. “ Mauss Robot” — Archy paused as if to 
catch his breath. 

“ I am listening, Archy.” 

“ Mauss Robut, dat ’ar man as own dis boss,” 
pointing to Rose’s, “ dat dar man’s de one as chased 
us to de lakes. Rose — don ’t you ’member? ” 

“ Yes, I remember. And, Archy, I propose letting 
Mr. Rose know before the sun rises again that I have 
not forgotten it.” 

“May de good Lor’ help yeh to press dat dar on 
his mine,” said Archy, as he turned to brush down 
the horses. 

Calling Gaines, who was boiling over with anger, 
and Richardson, who seemed to be steely cold, to one 
side, he hurriedly told them his plans, and gave them 
the signal to be used in averpowering Rose. Then they 
returned to the house, where Rose still sat smoking, 
and stroking his beard, and making white marks in 
his purple wound with his thick fingers. 

“ I’ve just ordered the boy to load up the boat,” 
said Mr. Arkles, appearing in the gallery. “ It will 
be around soon ; and as it fits on the wagon bed just 


MODESTY AND MONEY. 


461 


like a box, why you can all put your saddle-bags an* 
horse-traps into it.” 

44 Thank you, Mr. Arkles. You are a most thought- 
ful man. Permit me now to settle with you, not only 
for your hospitality, but also for our journey across 
^he river. How much will it be?” 

“ Well, I can ’t just say. The care here ain’t so 
much, but I run a big risk of losing my team, and 
my boy, every time, and then if the Yankees found 
me out they would raise old Cain purty high, fur you 
see I took the oath.” 

“I know all that, of course, and am willing to pay 
for your risk,” said the captain. 

“ Things has riz a good deal,” said Mr. Arkles, 
stroking his beard. I value that team an’ boy this 
blessed moment at eight thousand dollars.” 

“ I think that a big price, sir, but I assure you I 
nave no desire to buy them,” said the captain, laugh- 
ing at the exorbitant sum. 

“ I know, but if I lose them serving you, it ’s all the 
same as if. I sold them to you. Money is more 
plenty than it was ; I only wish it was just as good.” 

“ I wish it was, Mr. Arkles. Would you take less 
in Yankee money?” 

“Of course he would 'nt touch the cussed green 
stuff,” bellowed Rose, with a coarse laugh. “ Pay 
him five hundred apiece, in good Confed. That's 
plenty.” 

“Yes, that's plenty,” said Mr. Arkles. 

“ Your modesty quite astounds me,” said the cap- 
tain. “ You will die poor, Mr. Arkles, but of course 
the trifle of five hundred apiece does not include pav 
ment for your princely hospitality ? ” 

39 * 


462 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ That ’s for you to say, captain. I want to help 
the cause all I can. If you can afford to give me 
another hundred apiece, all right.” 

Robert had an abundance of *tlie gray stuff always 
on hand, and he paid the desired sum. As he was 
doing so, Mr. Arkles called him aside, and said in a 
whisper : 

“ Captain, if you have greenbacks, now Pm near 
the Yankees they ’d be more useful. I T1 put you all 
through for fifty dollars apiece, keep and all. ,, 

“ I wish I could accommodate you, Mr Arkles, but 
I have not that amount.” 

“ How much have you, sir.” 

“ Well, not over one hundred dollars.” 

“I’ll take one hundred dollars in greenbacks and 
half the amount of Confederate I asked, if it will suit 
you.” 

“You are very kind, but the fact is I keep the 
greenbacks as a curiosity. Though in the army so 
long, I have seen but little of this Yankee money, 
and I want to hold onto it.” 

“ All right, captain, I ’d rather have the other, but 
it ain’t so convenient.” 

By this time the wagon was at the door, driven by a 
stout-looking negro boy, and drawn by two very small 
mules. Inside the boat were oars, ropes, pins for row- 
locks, and bundles of hickory bark for torches. 

“ Them holes in the back part of the boat, and 
along the side,” said Mr. Arkles, as he held the light 
while the saddle-bags were being put in, “are for 
pegs to fasten your horses heads to. You '11 find, 
with care, that it won’t be hard to cross.” 

The horses were saddled, the wagon started. The 


CROSSING THE MISSISSIPPI. 


463 


men shook hands with Arkles, and, mounting, followed 
the wagon down the sandy road. Under moss-cov- 
ered branches, down heavy descents the wagon kept 
on for more than an hour ; then, followed by the 
horsemen, it descended a ravine, along wicli flowed a 
black creek bordered by cypress trees. A few hundred 
yards down the wagon halted. A cold breeze and a 
low murmur, with an undefined background to a 
broad expanse, told them they were on the banks of 
“ The Father of Waters.” 

“Heah’s de place, gemmens,” said the black boy, 
leaping from the wagon. 

* “ Were you ever over here before?” asked Robert. 

“ Gosh-a-massy ! nearly ebery night, for a long 
time,” answered the black boy, as he proceeded to 
unhitch his mules and fasten them to an adjoining tree. 

The horses were quickly unsaddled, and it proved an 
easy job for the strong arms to lift off the boat and 
launch it in the black creek, that was swallowed 
up in the great river a few yards down. The saddles 
and bridles, with Rose’s mail-bags and the rest of the 
impediments, were stowed carefully away.' The horses 
were allowed to cool off for a few minutes before 
leading them into the water. Then they were made 
fast to the pins. Archy and the “ boy ” took the 
oars. Robert appointed himself coxswain, with Rose 
sitting at his feet, while the other two were detailed 
to shorten the ropes and keep the horses close to the 
boat. Robert had Senor along, and that noble animal 
was as dainty of wetting himself as was the ill-starred 
Don. 

This was no ordinary undertaking, the crossing of 
a wide, deep river on a dark night, with a frail shell 


464 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


of a boat, and five struggling, panting horses fastened 
to the side. 

“All ready, mauss,” said the black boy. 

“ All ready,” echoed the men. The oars were driven 
into the muddy bank, the boat floated off, and the 
horses followed, encouraged by the words of the men 
in the boat. Out to the great river the horses waded ; 
deeper and deeper the water became. With power- 
ful strokes the black men bent to the oars. A few 
pulls in the swift current, and with a wild plunge the 
horses descended and struggled to the side of the 
boat, as if for protection. One mile before them 
the river stretched, but every stroke lessened the dis- 
tance. The explosive breathings of the frightened 
animals became louder, and the men strained their 
eyes for the farther shore. Out farther and farther, 
till the middle of the stream was gained, and a black, 
shadowy outline was marked against the starry sky, 
and told them of the Louisiana shore. A feeling of 
safety came over the party in the little boat, but it 
came quickly to be dispelled. Down the dark river 
rolled the tolling of a bell, with a puff, puff, puff, like 
the breathing of a river monster, and an instant after- 
ward the lights from the gunboat rounding the bend 
above flooded the hitherto gloomy river, and rendered 
visible the anxious faces in the boat and the strug- 
gling horses alongside. The black men, with their 
brawny arms bared, threw their souls into their oars, 
and the boat moved faster than the horses. This 
would not do. The position was critical in (he ex- 
treme. The patrol boat must discover them, and, sup- 
posing them foes, a shower of grape would send the 
boat to the bottom of the river with its loyal and 


A NARROW ESCAPE. 


465 


traitor inmates. The full force of the position flashed 
upon Robert, and for the time a feeling of horror ran 
through him, such as he had never before experienced. 
Nearer and nearer came the boat. It appeared to be 
rushing down on them as if aware of their whereabouts. 
The black men showed signs of tiring, and at Robert’s 
request, Gaines and Richardson took their places and 
bent to the oars. The steamer was abreast of them ; 
men were seen hurrying along the deck ; the whistle 
sounded, there was a roar of escaping steam, and the 
vessel became stationary. 

The panting of the horses seemed to increase, and 
the oars in the row-locks creaked as if they could be 
heard across the river. 

“ Oh, God ! let the horses go ; let the horses go ! 
We’ll be caught — pull, pull, pull!” 

As Rose spoke he made an effort to untie one of 
the horses, but the captain bent forward and caught 
his arm. 

“ Hold, there ! Do n’t dare to unfasten a horse. 
Work easy, men, so as to keep about stationary.” 
This was said as Robert turned the boat’s head up and 
waited the result. 

“Let me throw over my saddle-bags, capting. My 
Lor’, if the Yanks wuz to git them !” 

“Be still, sir. I ’ll talk to you if we ever get on shore !” 

Rose cowered down in the bottom of the boat with 
his livid face turned to the light, and an expression of 
fear upon it that made it perfectly hideous. 

Another whistle from the steamer, more hurrying 
along the deck with moving lights, then came the 
steady puff, puff, puff, and the gunboat Rattle* steamed 
down toward Rodney. 


66 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ Pull away, boys, the danger is past,” said the cap* 
tain in a cheerful voice. 

“ Yes, pull away, boys !” said Rose, sitting up in 
the boat. 

A few minutes, and the horses began to stagger 
along the unreliable bottom. The shingling shore 
was seen running out, and a few strokes shot the flat- 
bottomed boat on the gravelly beach, to which the 
rowers leaped with an exclamation of delight. 

“ By thunder, that was nearer to the Yankees than I 
ever want to be agin,” said Rose as he jumped on 
shore with his saddle-bags. 

“ Let the horses rest before saddling up. Boy, do 
you return to Mr. Arkles’s to-night?” 

“Yes, mauss; I alius does when I comes down.” 

“ Well, you have done nobly. I am sorry you have 
to go back alone. Light one of those torches.” 

“ The boy lighted the torch, and Robert handed 
him a Confederate bill of a denomination so large 
that it astonished Rose, who stood near by, and raised 
the donor very much in his estimation, while it evoked 
a torrent of verbal gratitude from the black boy, who 
became quite patriarchal in his prayers and blessings 
“ for de young mauss.” 

The black boy pushed off the boat, bade all good 
night, and was soon lost to sight on the river and in 
the darkness. As they saddled up, Robert asked : 

“ Where do you intend stopping for the rest of the 
night, Rose? Our horses are fatigued by this swim, 
and I would rather not ride very far.” 

“ Wall, cap., thar’s a place back heali a mile whar 
we mout stop, but reckon ’taint safe, coz the Yankee 
cavalry scout along thar. We ’d better git back eight 


OYER THE RIVER. 


467 


miles ter the Washita distreeck ; it ’s safe thar, an* we 
kin res’ to-morrow mornin’.” 

“ Glad to see you so prudent, Rose. We will ride 
for the Washita.” 

Up from the river the little party rode, Rose to the 
left of the captain, the others immediately behind. 

“ I tell you, I ’ll never get this night out of my 
mind,” said Rose after they had ridden some distance 
in silence. “I don’t know what in thunder I ’d a did 
if you wuz n’t along.” 

“ Oh, you are a brave fellow, Rose ! You would 
have made out all right.” 

“I ain’t so sure about making out. I'd cut the 
horse loose, anyhow.” 

“ Yes, and the horse would have gone for the light, 
and let the cat out of the bag at once. However, ‘a 
miss is as good as a mile.' My only fear was that 
this crossing might be discovered, and then I would 
have a tough time getting back next month when my 
leave expires.” 

“ You would n’t go back this way, at any rate. Of 
course not. I’ll fix you for that before we part.” 

“What? Tell me how I can cross from this side!" 

“ Sartin, I kin ; an’ as you ’ ve got ter know, I do n’t 
mine lettin’ it right out. Yeh mus’ go down ter 
Waterproof — ’tain’t far below this — an’ hunt up Dr. 
Campbell : he lives up the river from the town an’ 
right on the bluff. lie ’s got a boat, but of course 
he ’ll lie about it at first till he knows yer all right. 
He ’s sound on the Confederacy, an’ ’ll put you over for 
less than you give that cuss Arkles. But be keerfui ; 
the doctor trades with the Yankees. He took the 
oath, but says he did it with a reservation.” As Rose 


468 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


finished he took a large chew of tobacco and tried to 
laugh. 

“ I do n’t think the Yankees are as bad as you im- 
agine, Rose.” They were now about two miles from 
the river, and as the captain spoke he placed his horse 
nearer to Rose, and quietly loosened a pistol in the 
holster. 

“Bad, did you say?” 

“Yes, that’s what I said.” % 

“Why cap, the very devils are angels compared to 
’em. God, ef I had the power I’d crush them out as 
I would snakes — I’ve helped do it to some on ’em.” 

“I was in their hands for some time ; they treat 
prisoners very justly. Now if they had captured us 
this evening, they would have been very considerate 
of your claims to clemency.” 

“ By G — , sir ; I ’d rather be dead ! I never want 
to try it.” 

“You don’t!” 

“Why, Lor’, no ! 

“You must, sir; I am a Yankee, and you are my 
prisoner.” 

A scream of fear and rage burst from Rose’s lips 
as he drove his spurs into his horse and tried to break 
away. But a man who in days gone past had often 
leaped from a horse while at full gallop, lariat in hand, 
was by his side, and in an instant Rose was dashed 
to the ground, with Archy’s knee on his breast and 
Archy’s hand at his throat. Gaines and IlichardsoN 
dismounted, and with their pistols cocked they per- 
mitted Rose to rise. A torrent of oaths and impre- 
cations came from Rose as he staggered to his feet. 

“Gag him, and we will tie him to his horse.” The 


A PICTURE OF FIERCE DESPAIR. 


409 


order was obeyed despite the struggles of Rose, and 
with his arms fastened behind him, and his legs tied 
under the saddle, and the bridle in Archy’s hand, the 
scouts turned their horses’ heads north for the penin- 
sula before Vicksburg. 

By daylight they stopped near a plantation, where 
Richardson obtained corn for the animals and food 
for the men, and carried it out to camp. The pris- 
oner was unbound, and the gag taken from his mouth, 
on his promising not to attempt escape. He sat on 
the ground, the picture of fierce despair, muttering 
low curses and following Robert with his eyes. He 
wished to ask a question, and at length he managed 
in a hoarse, choking voice to say : “Ain’t you War- 
ren? say, ain’t yon Warren?” 

“Yes, my name is Warren ; I know you by reputa- 
tion very well.” 

“ You are going to hang me, ain’t you? Wall, hang 
and be d — — d ; I ’ve paid you aforehand.” 

“I purpose taking you to Vicksburg, and handing 
you over to General Osterfraus. I can’t imagine what 
he will do with such a fiend as you are by your own 
confession.” 

“ See heah, Warren, I allers heard you wuz a bravo 
man. Give me a chance for my life. Let me rim 
for it, an’ kill me if yeh catch me.” 

“I am not anxious for such hunts. If you had a 
spark of manhood about you, I would do all I could 
to make your position easier, but I cannot forget my 
own sufferings, Tad’s death, the burning of Tennessee’s 
shanty, and the death of his little ones. Talk no more 
to me — I may be tempted to forget myself and hang 
you on the spot.” 


40 


470 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


44 1 did n’t kill the young ones. I swar they died of 
sickness. It was n’t my fault.” A shudder ran through 
Rose’s frame, and he closed his eyes tightly as he spoke, 
as if to shut out some fearful picture brought to view 
by the namiug of 4 ‘ Tennessee’s children.” 

Robert was more excited than he seemed, for he 
had catalogued the wickedness of the fiend before 
him, and the hot blood throbbed in his usually cool 
head. Brave Tennessee covered with wounds, his 
little home in ruins, his little ones dead, his wife 
among the Indians — all this flashed through Rob- 
ert’s mind. Much of this suffering, he thought, 
had been brought on the noble-hearted Tennessee 
by his fidelity to himself, Robert Warren. If Tennes- 
see were with him then, the wretch before him would 
not live a moment. 

Robert walked away and talked with Gaines. 

4 ‘ I would hang him on the spot, captain ; such a 
brute ought not to live a moment,” said Gaines, ex- 
citedly. 

“I would not,” said Richardson ; “we are within 
ten miles of Vicksburg ; let us start at once and hand 
this villain over to the proper authorities. All his 
boasted crimes may be lies. What he did that you 
know of, that terrible purple wound and disfigured 
face has paid for.” 

“You are right, Richardson, you are right. Let us 
start at once.” Robert turned as he spoke, startled 
by a yell, and to see Rose with a knife in his hand 
rushing in the opposite direction to where he stood. 
It was unnecessary to shout “Archy! Archy ! after 
him, quick !” as all seized their pistols and st arted in 
pursuit. 


ESCAPE, RECAPTURE, AND DEATH. 471 

Archy was not ten yards behind the fugitive, who, 
nerved by desperation, seemed to fly over the ground* 
He was older and heavier than Archy, but in activity, 
strength, and fleetness, far his inferior. The race was 
short. A fence barred the advance unexpectedly, 
and then Rosa turned with uplifted knife and struck 
his pursuer, w T ho was close upon him. Archy caught 
the arm that held the knife, and the weapon dropped 
from the relaxed fingers. Then both men clinched ; 
it was but for a second. Stepping on a frail stick, 
Archy slipped, with his arms about Rose, and both 
men fell, Archy below. Quick as a flash Eose seized 
the knife, and tried to-disengage his arm for the blow, 
but before he could raise it, Richardson’s pistol 
flashed, and Eose leaped back and fell with a small 
red hole in his forehead above the purple wound. 

“ Why, Archy, what are you good for ?” 

“Why, I cotched him, an’ was n’t watchin’. Why* 
Mauss Eobut, I jest wish yeh’d let us alone two 
minutes more, Pda had his throat in my hand, an’ you 
know that’s short work.” 

A few tremors of the powerful frame, a spasmodic 
gasping as if struggling to retain the spirit, and Eose 
lay dead ’neath the fence. A search of his person 
discovered valuable dispatches for Smith and Magru- 
der. 

Returning to camp they mounted hastily, and as 
they were about to start a negro came in, to whom 
Robert paid some money on his promising to bury 
Eose. 

Back safely to Vicksburg the scouting party got, 
with information more valuable than was expected. 
This exploit was so well managed that Warren ex- 


472 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


changed “ the knightly bars” for “ the golden leaves,” 
and received a special mention from his superior 
officer. It is unnecessary to say that Mr. Arkles was 
attended to, and that Dr. Campbell at Waterproof 
had his trade and his boat cut off. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


IN HOSPITAL. 

Shortly after the adventure narrated in the pre- 
ceding chapter, the scouts were ordered to roport to 
General Rosecrans, then advancing after Bragg through 
the mountain fastnesses of Northwestern Georgia. 
Tennessee, whose acquaintance with that region was 
invaluable, had been ordered on, and now the rest 
were going to the field of greater activities. Unfortu- 
nately for Robert Warren, he was at this time attacked 
by the malarious fever incident to the lower valley 
of the Mississippi and particularly to the region along 
the Big Black and Yazoo. He was forced for the 
time to remain behind, and it pained him more than 
his illness to part with his friends Gaines and Rich- 
ardson. Archy of course staid behind and watched 
his master during the first week of delirium and fever. 
At his request Mary was not informed of his illness, 
and knowing that the fever was not fatal he waited 
patiently till it spent its force. During the period of 
his convalescence, he was placed on light post duty, 
though he yearned to be with Rosecrans and his own 
men. The incident of his illness changed the whole 
course of his subsequent military career, and though 
it deprived him of the excitement incident to the 
movements of large armies, it increased his oppor- 
tunities for individual adventures, and gave him as 
40 * 


474 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


good a chance for the display of his undoubted abil- 
ities. Sherman’s raid on Meridian was one of the 
boldest, and at the same time one of the most futile 
expeditions of the war, and had that famous officer’s 
military record closed with this exploit his name 
would be much less brilliant ; and yet the undertaking 
in the hands of any other man would have been more 
than a failure — it would have been a complete d ; saster. 
For some time prior to the raid on Meridian, Western 
and Central Mississippi was the scene of constant 
skirmishes, and the scouting ground of small bodies 
from either side. 

Robert Warren was retained by General Osterhaus 
at Vicksburg much against his wish. The destruction 
of a few secreted boats on the Mississippi did not 
stop the crossing of mails ; had it done so it would 
have been little to the credit of the Confederates, 
who had ample opportunity to cross, in the abscence 
of patrol boats, at any point between Memphis and 
New Orleans. Mails were not only crossed nightly, 
but herds of cattle from Texas were swum over below 
Natchez, and the Confederates becoming familiar 
with the once dreaded gunboats, sent light batteries 
to the wooded bends of the river, where they proved 
a constant annoyance to the steamers, and necessi- 
tated the organization of a number of small land ex- 
peditions against them. The country between Water- 
proof and Natchez was particularly dangerous, owing 
to the constant annoyance of Smith’s gang and their 
artillery. This Smith was a German who had been 
an artillery officer in his own country. Before the 
war he drifted into Waterproof, and after hostilities 
began he went into the Southern army, more from a 


IN THE SADDLE AGAIN. 


475 


love of excitement than any prompting of principle. 
He knew enough of military movements to be lookedup 
to with admiration by his followers, and his want of 
feeling and natural cruelty stood for the hate and 
vindictiveness of the men he had gathered about him. 
He was, like all innate cowards, much given to brag- 
ging, and one of his boasts was the hanging of a poor 
drunken Yankee caught away from his command. 
The planters along the river were in league with 
Smith, and when he was pursued his forces always 
scattered, and were sure to be secreted in the differ- 
ent plantations bordering the Mississippi. 

About the middle of September a fugitive negro 
came to Rodney, below Vicksburg, and reported Smith 
with some sixty men at Holcomb’s, thirty miles down 
the river, where he was preparing for a raid. The 
soldiers and sailors stationed at Rodney owed Smith 
a grudge, for, a short time before, in the abscence of 
troops, a number of officers from the gunboat Rattler 
went on shore to church, and during the service Smith’s 
men appeared, stopped the clergyman with their 
cocked revolvers, and carried the officers away pris- 
oners. The news of Smith’s proximity was speedily 
sent to Vicksburg, and a cavalry force organized to 
hunt him. Warren was given command of the expe- 
dition, and, though not fully recovered from his fever, 
the prospect of active service had a better effect than 
all the medicine at the corps hospital. 

Much of the country to be passed over was already 
familiar by the advance on Vicksburg and the fre- 
quent scouts before and after the siege. This fact, 
added to the success which had attended Warren’s 
previous service, was the cause of his selection, and 


476 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


he determined, as his force of one hundred men started 
southeast from the Walnut Hills, that the confidence 
of his superiors should not be misplaced. Captain 
Rolston and Lieutenant Thomas, of Missouri, as brave 
men as ever carried saber, accompanied the expedi- 
tion, and, being both young and unused to this kind of 
service, they looked up to Warren as a veritable hero, 
and felt proud to be under an officer who had .been 
so successful. 

The evening of the day on which they started from 
Vicksburg they went into camp below Warrenton, on 
the west side of the Big Black. The position was 
elevated, overlooking the river, and surrounded by 
great gloomy trees, that spread away to the river 
and along it in dark green vistas, that grew gloomy 
and weird-looking by the light of the camp, as the 
evening wind shook the heavy live-oak branches, 
and the long, gray moss swung back and forth with a 
chilling, mysterious sound. The men had picketed 
their horses and eaten their suppers ; the videttes 
were stationed, and about the blazing fires, that shone 
on trees adorned with sabers and carbines, the bronzed 
soldiers reclined and smoked with as much happiness 
as if on a picnic near their northern homes. The 
fire about which the officers gathered, and where 
Archy was the presiding spirit, was below the main 
camp, and on the only line by which an enemy could 
approach on that side of the river. Suddenly, on the 
opposite shore of the Big Black, a score of camp- 
fires lit the crest of the hill and drove the shadows 
from the live-oaks. Forms in gray were busy about 
them, and wearied horses, relieved of their saddles, 
rolled on the mossy earth. Down to the rivei th« 


OUTPOST COURTESIES. 


47 * 


rebel soldiers, either unconscious of or uncaring for 
the fire on the opposite bank, so visible, came to water 
their horses and wash their own dust-covered faces. 
The proceeding was very strange ; and Warren, who 
had no desire at that time to bring on a useless 
skirmish across the river, had everything in readiness 
for an attack. The river at this point was about six 
hundred feet across, and the distance between the 
two camps certainly not over twice that distance. 
The Union cavalrymen, in the indistinct light, could 
see a number of men examining the trees with a torch 
along the opposite shore. At length one of them 
gave a very inelegant expression of surprise, and 
shouted out : 

‘‘I’ve got it, I swear to h — 1 ! ” 

This increased the mystery of the search to the 
Union men, particularly when an axe was seen gleam- 
ing in the torchlight and the faint strokes came over 
the river, as the instrument, swung by a stalwart 
fellow, was buried again and again in the root of 
the tree. 

All this was too much for the curiosity of a cavalry- 
man up the river. He approached the water, and. 
placing his hands to his mouth the better to convey 
the sound, he called out : 

“ Hello there ! ” 

The reply came back : 

“ Hello thar yerself, an’ see how ye ’ll like it 1 99 

“ Say, say ! ” from the cavalryman. 

“ Say away ! ” from the rebel. 

“Are you fellows Johnnies?” 

Over the river came the answer : 

“ Bet yer bottom dollar we are.” 


478 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ What in thunder are you cuttin’ that little tree 
for? It ain’t done you no harm,” from the Yankee. 

“No! It’s goin’ to do us a power of good,” an- 
swered the rebel. 

“Well, tell us what it’s for!” roared the cavalry- 
man, whose curiosity grew more excited. 

“ Why, you blue-bellied son of a gun, we ’re gittin’ 
sassafras to make coffee ! ” 

This reply was so unexpected, so harmless, and so 
probable, that it was hailed with a shout of merriment 
from the Union camp. 

“ Come over here and get some real coffee ! ” called 
out one of the Yankees. 

The words “ real coffee ” seemed to have a magical 
effect on the men about the sassafras tree. They 
stopped, held a short consultation, sent one of their 
number up the hill, and then the man with the torch 
walked out and stood so distinctly visible against the 
dark background of the hill, that any man on the 
opposite shore could have killed him with his carbine. 
Among the old soldiers of both sides, however, an 
unarmed man on the picket line was safe, and the 
pickets themselves, when not ordered to fire by their 
officers ; and even at such times it was customary to 
give warning in the words of the negro song, “ Look 
out dar now, I ’se a-gwine to shoot,” or “Hunt yer 
hole, Johnny,” or “ Yank,” as the case might be. 

The man with the torch waved it like a truce signal, 
and believing he had commanded the attention of 
the men on the opposite shore, he called out : 

“ Who are you ? What Yanks ? ” 

Warren, with his officers, staid quietly back during 
the conversation. 


BARTER. 


479 


“We ’re from Vicksburg, out on a hunt. Come 
over an’ get yer coffee.” 

“See here, Yank, we ’re squar’ soldiers over heah — 
Major Dwight’s battalion. If we send will you let us 
come back with the coffee?” 

This was a poser. One of the men came running 
back to where the officers stood, and, saluting the 
major, he asked : 

“Major Warren, would you have any objection to 
our trading some coffee with the Johnnies for to- 
bacco?” 

“ Not in the least, if you can inform me how it is 
to be done.” 

“ There ’s a canoe, sir, just above here ; we could 
send it over.” 

“ Yes, but suppose the Johnnies keep the canoe and 
man?” 

“ Why, major, you do n’t think they ’d be so darn ’d 
mean as that?” 

The possibility of such a thing being done never 
entered into the soldier’s head. 

“See what they say,” said Warren. “Do n’t send 
any coffee with the canoe ; they must come over for 

it.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said the soldier, in a rejoiced 
tone, as he saluted and started back to the river.” 

A large number of gray-coats without arms came 
down from the camp-fires, while the man with the 
torch waved it in fiery circles above his head, either 
to keep it burning or from excitement at the prospect 
of getting some real coffee. 

“ Have you fellows a boat?” called out a Yankee. 

“Nary boat; but we can make a raft.” 


480 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“Never mind the raft ; we ’ll send over a canoe,’* 
said the Yankee. 

A score of men was ready to volunteer. One stal- 
wart young fellow stepped in, and, seizing the paddle, 
pushed into the river, and was watched by the anxious 
crowds on each side till he touched the opposite 
shore. 

The noise of his greeting, “How are you, Ytfnk? 
Glad to see you! Whar’s the coffee ?” and kindred 
salutations were distinctly audible on the opposite 
side. In few minutes the canoe was seen returning 
with two additional occupants, who were met with a 
greetingas warm as the Yankee had received. The 
coffee was soon forthcoming and the tobacco delivered, 
and, after shaking hands all around, the Union cav- 
alryman carried the Confederate over the river and 
returned with the canoe. 

The camp-fires burned more brightly for the short 
visit of peace, and more than one man on the oppo- 
site banks prayed that it might be speedily made 
permanent. Just before nine o’clock the song of 
“ Auld Lang Syne” was started by one of the Union 
soldiers, and it spread like a pleasant contagion from 
fire to fire. Over the black river it floated, and was 
taken up by the men who had just drank real coffee 
provided by their enemies, and the last chorus echoed 
through the grand, gloomy woods with an effect not 
soon to be forgotten. Hardly had “Auld Lang 
Syne ” died out when one of the Confederates started 
the air of “Old Hundred.” The words were not 
audible to his enemies, but the dear, familiar chorus 
came back grateful, and friend and foe took up the 
air with feeling. The fires gradually grew dim, and 


AN ADROIT CAPTURE. 


481 


with silence and darkness the caution of the videttes 
increased, lest the men with whom they had just 
joked and sang should steal upon them unawares with 
uplifted swords. And this is war. 

Long before day, without lighting a fire, Warren’s 
men saddled, and ere the sun rose they were across 
the Big Black and ten miles from the camp of the 
previous evening. 

By noon the next day the command was eighty 
miles from Vicksburg by the road it had traveled, but 
Smith was not there. From some negroes Major 
Warren learned that Smith had started east that 
morning with about fifty men and three pieces of 
artillery. Besting for a short time, they turned east 
on the road Smith had taken, making inquiries along 
the road from the negroes. Shortly after sundown 
they learned that Smith was in camp a mile or two 
beyond. Ascertaining definitely the place and force, 
the negro who gave the information was detained to 
act as a guide. Waiting for darkness, and to rest the 
men and horses, they started for the plantation where 
Smith was said to be about ten o’clock. Dismount- 
ing the men some distance from the plantation, a 
sufficient guard was left with the horses, and about 
seventy men advanced so as to surround the house 
and yard where Smith and his men were in camp. 

The surprise was complete. There was not a guard 
mounted, and before the rebels knew it they were 
powerless to resist, and prudently surrendered. Smith 
himself was in the house, and was somewhat aston- 
ished at being called out, and more at finding a pistol 
to his head, accompanied with the demand to surrender. 
This he refused to do, and, calling on his men to 
41 


4K2 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


fight, be rushed toward the place where they were in 
camp. It was the rashness of a coward, and he paid 
for it. before he had gone ten paces a carbine 
flashed before him and Smith fell, shot through the 
heart. 

The prisoners were carefully guarded till the early 
morning, when the Yankees, obtaining a couple of 
wagons from the planter at whose place they were, 
they piled in the arms and started north with the 
prisoners and the three six-pounders for Vicksburg. 

Warren’s hopes were that he could get back to 
Vicksburg without encountering the enemy in any 
force, and report the success of his undertaking. His 
very desires increased his caution and anxiety. 

Late in the afternoon, in company with Archy and 
an orderly, he rode some distance ahead of the line, 
with the intention of selecting a camping place. They 
passed over a slight elevation in the road, and were 
about to halt before a patch of timber through which 
the road ran, when suddenly a dozen armed men 
sprang from the woods, and, while some seized the 
bridles and led the horses in from the road, the others, 
with fingers on the trigger, commanded that the 
prisoners utter not a word. They were hardly out of 
sight of the road when the tramping of the Union 
cavalry passing was heard, and the prisoners listened 
with throbbing hearts till the sound of the retreating 
horsemen was lost. Then the lieutenant in charge of 
the rebels, quite a body of whom was in the woods, 
advanced toward Warren, and, taking Sefior’s bridle 
from Archy, he turned the horse over to one of his 
men. 

“Sorry for your fix, sir,” said the lieutenant, ap- 
droaching Major Warren. 


WARREN A PRISONER. 


483 


“Not half as sorry as I am,” replied the major. 

“ Of course you have greenbacks about you? You 
will have no need for them in the place you are going 
to. Permit me to take charge of them. ,, The lieu- 
tenant was a cool, bland fellow, and as he spoke he 
twisted his belt till the pistol-holster protruded in 
suggestive proximity to his right hand. There was 
no use in opposing this demand, so Warren quietly 
took out his pocket-book and handed the lieutenant 
four hundred and fifty dollars. 

‘ ‘ I desire to retain the pocket-book, sir,” said the 
major. “You have all that can be of value to you. 
The contents, as you can see, consist of private 
papers and the pictures of my friends.’ ’ 

“No desire, sir, to interfere with your private 
affairs,” said the lieutenant, as he fumbled the green- 
backs over in his hands. “ Permit me to say, sir, this 
is d — d pretty money for paper.” 

“Yes; I think it is artistically good, and intrinsi- 
cally better than the graybacks your people have to 
use in such quantities as to give them value.” 

“You are mistaken, my friend. Our paper ain’t 
beautiful, but it’s mighty good. Now there is alliance 
of your visiting us for some time, let me, as a man 
who has your interests at heart, give a little advice. 
All paper is valuable in the South. Of course, it re- 
quires some training to know what is cash, but when- 
ever you get hold of a document with the picture of 
a locomotive or a woman on it — two of the fastest 
things in creation — hang on to that paper for life ; 
that ’s money.” 

Major Warren could not suppress a smile at this ad- 
vice. But his face lengthened when the lieutenant 
asked : “ What is your name, sir?” 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“Hubert Warren, major of United States Volun« 
teers,” was the reply. 

“ Major Warren. Your name sounds familiar, though 
I cannot recall the connection. By the way, major, 
you wear very fine boots. Might I inquire the size? ’ 

The lieutenant looked yea rningly at the major's long 
cavalry boots and compared them, judging from his 
glances, with his own. 

“I wear sevens, I believe, sir,” replied the major. 

“That is very curious ; do you know, major, that is 
just my size ? and while I have no desire to exchange 
positions with you, my selfish heart prompts me to 
stand in your shoes.' * 

As the lieutenant concluded a loud laugh from his 
men, who were gathered around, greeted his coarse 
wit, and a score of voices called out : “ Come up out 
of them boots ! Come up ! I know yer thar ; see yer 
head a stickin' out," and kindred expressions, peculiar 
to the jocose soldiers of both sides. 

There was no getting out of it, so Robert Warren 
pulled off his boots, and the lieutenant did the same, 
and graciously passed liis old ones to his prisoner as 
he pulled on the new. 

While the officer was “going through” Robert 
Warren, closing with his w r atch and pocket-knife, the 
orderly was thoroughly fleeced by the men, even to 
his blue pants, and he was so completely changed that 
Robert scarcely knew him. 

By this time it had , grown completely dark in the 
woods, and Warren’s wondering command had gone 
on some miles. 

The lieutenant, wisely believing a search w ? ould be 
at once instituted for the missing officer, started east 


REBEL BLUSTER. 


485 


through the woods, mounting his prisoners and keep- 
ing them safely guarded. 

It was 12 o’clock before the Confederates halted at 
a plantation, where they procured provisions for the 
prisoners, and permitted them to sleep without 
blankets near one of the fires. Archy took off his 
coat, as his master lay on the ground, and insisted on 
his master’s putting it over him. The major kindly 
refused, and one of the guards, seeing the transaction, 
advanced and said to Archy : 

“See here, boy, that ar’s a good coat. You don’t 
seem to have much use for it. Jest fork it over, will 
yer?” 

This was accompanied by a gesture so imperative 
that Archy at once handed over the stout, blue jacket. 

The lieutenant was the guest of the planter, at 
whose house they stopped, and that worthy could not 
curb his- curiosity. He came out, pipe in hand, to 
look at the prisoners, and to offer in a truly Southern 
way his opinion of the Yankees, and his confidence 
in the success of the Confederacy. Major Warren 
did not deign to notice the son of chivalry, which fact 
incensed his anger and added to the fire of his pro- 
longed denunciation. 

As Robert lay dozing before che fire, with strange 
fears and wild dreams haunting his mind, the lieuten- 
ant, somewhat the worse for his evening’s libations 
with the planter, laid his hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m going to take you to Brandon to-morrow, 
major, and then, I reckon, they ’ll send you on to 
Mobile. Mobile is just the bulliest town, provided, 
of course, that one is at liberty to see the sights.” 

“ Well, sir, you are at liberty to rob me, insult me, 
41 * 


486 


WARREN OF TEXAS* 


and send me where you please. Might I ask what 
command is honored by the service of so gallant a 
gentleman ?” As Robert spoke he half rose before 
the fiend and looked into the drunken eyes of the 
lieutenant. 

“ Ask any question you choose, so ’s it ain’t insult- 
in’, ” said the lieutenant, playing with the handle of 
his revolver. “ I belong to Scott’s Cavalry, now.sta- 
tioned at Brandon ; and I want to tell you I ’m one 
of them chaps that would rather blow the head off a 
d d Yankee than not !” 

“ There are cowards of that kind, who are always 
brave in the presence of unarmed men and old women. 
They are the robbers of the helpless and insulters of 
the defenseless !” Robert rose as he spoke. “ And 
I am satisfied you are one of them ! ” He looked 
into the unsteady eyes of the lieutenant, and the rebel 
dropped his hands by his side and muttered : 

“ I do n’t fight with prisoners.” 

Archy lay on the ground close by, his black eyes 
burning, his left arm drawn under him, and his power- 
ful limbs ready for a spring. 

The lieutenant walked away, growling as he did : 

“By , you chaps have got to walk to-morrow, 

and if you do n’t keep up with the horses, then may I 
be d -d !” 

The morrow came, cold and cheerless, with a driz- 
zling rain that extinguished the fires before the rebels 
started. Some of the soldiers divided their rations 
of corn-bread and bacon with the prisoners, and then 
they began the march over the sandy roads. The 
rebels led three horses without riders, while the three 
prisoners walked, with three guards behind them. 


BARE-FOOTED AND TORTURED. 


487 


Robert vras not accustomed to walking, but he did not 
complain. The lieutenant’s boots did not fit him, and 
early in the day he took them off and carried them 
over his shoulder. One of the guards saw the boots 
and speedily relieved him of them, while another guard 
took advantage of the circumstance to exchange hats. 

The sand was deep and soft, and the socks soon 
became full of the keen particles, so that by noon 
every step taken produced the most excruciating pain. 
The rebels halted for a short time to rest their horses 
and feet ; but the prisoners were kept away from the 
water, of which their hot, blistered feet were so much 
in need. Then the march began, and the scalding 
pain gave place to a numb, heavy feeling, and the 
white sand clung like a mass of venomous insects to 
the bleeding, blistered feet. Yet on they walked, 
the horses in front without riders, the armed guards 
behind. Conversation was prohibited, yet "Archy 
muttered words of religious comfort as he walked 
beside his master, and brave Bob Clark, of Bucyrus, 
Ohio, laughed as if the walk was a pleasure, while 
his pale lips worked hard with the effort to appear 
gay. The fever was still in Robert Warren’s body, 
and he felt the heat and chill chasing each other 
through his veins, and, above all, the excruciating 
pain of his feet at every step they took. His apparent 
indifference to pain would have won him the position 
of a Cheyenne Indian anxious to show his abilities 
for the war-path. Yet his heart fell when in the 
rainy twilight the rebels, with their prisoners, halted 
on the banks of Pearl River, in the very woods where 
a short time before Warren and his scouts captured 
Joe Johnston’s courier. 


488 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The lieutenant slept at the ferry, while the men 
built fires of pine boughs and went into camp in the 
woods. The ground was damp, and the prisoners, 
without covering for their tired bodies or water to 
wash their blistered feet, lay down, so exhausted by 
the march of thirty-eight miles that they slept despite 
hunger, cold, and pain. 

Morning came rapidly, and with it a clear sky and 
a bright warm sun. A ration of badly-cooked corn- 
bread was served to the prisoners, and then they 
marched to the ferry, where the were carried across. 
They were stiff and tired, and the lieutenant seemed 
pained because he had not the time to make his pris- 
oners swim instead of carrying them. 

They reached Brandon early in the day, and were 
conducted to a dilapidated building with an earthen 
floor, in which were crowded a number of rebel deser- 
ters, negroes, and a few Yankee prisoners. The place 
was filthy in the extreme, and the inmates, as a class, 
were the most disreputable representatives of a large 
class in the Southern army. Though Robert wore no 
insignia of rank, the men in “the guard-house” — for 
such the wretched place w r as called — greeted him as 
“colonel,” and those at first inclined to jeer soon 
treated him with kindness and consideration. Archy 
was still with him, and he surprised Robert that night 
by handing him a pair of new socks. 

“ Mauss Robut, I reckon Pse washed yer poor feet 
all clean, now he ah’s a nice pair of socks. Miss Mary 
guv ’em to me, Susey guv ’em to her for me, and I ’se 
been a hangin’ on to ’em fur Susey.” 

“ T will take them, Archy, for my feet seem on fire. 
Ah, that water was so cooling. I never knew one’s 


SHOD AND SHELTERED. 


489 


feet ccrald be so sensitive. The socks feel nice and 
soft, Archy. I only wish I had a pair of shoes.’ ’ 

Archy looked down at his ^ own large feet and then 
at the smaller and finely-shaped feet of his master. 
He evidently made up his mind it would not do to 
suggest wearing his own, for they were much too large. 
He cooked the corn-meal ration that was served out, 
on a griddle that seemed to be used by the prisoners 
in common, and after his master had eaten a little he 
went to the o her end of the prison. Eobert watched 
him talking to a young man very earnestly, and at 
times stooping down to feel the young man’s boots, 
and make commentaries evidently unfavorable to the 
articles in question, for the young man would lift up 
his foot, slap the covering, and then make emphatic 
gestures intended to imply that the boots were of the 
best quality and that a great sum of money would be 
necessary to replace them — a fact, but the great diffi- 
culty was to duplicate them at once. Archy held some- 
thing in his hand that flashed in the light that blazed 
in the middle of the room, and the young man’s eyes 
seemed fascinated by the yellow sheen. He stooped, 
pulled off his boots, and as he handed them to Archy 
the glittering coin passed into his hand, and Archy’s 
black face shone with delight. Putting the boots 
under his arm be came back to where his master lay 
on the ground. 

“Mauss Bob, de Lor’ ’ll pervide for all what puts 
trus’ in Him. Heah ’s de boots.” 

As Archy spoke he handed his master the pair of 
boots he had purchased from the Confederate. 

“ Where did you get those, Archy, and what did you 
gi ve for them ?” asked Eobert, as he held up the boots. 


490 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ I bought dem from dat young white man what ’s 
walking aroun’ in his stockin’ feet. Mighty sorry for 
him, but he ’s got de gold.” 

“ Why, where did you get the gold, Archy?” 

“ Why, Mauss Robut, do n’t yeh ’member, de night 
we left home, ole mauss gabe me a whole lot of money 
in gold. I gabe one-lialf to Susie, poor chile, an’ 
kep’ de res’, thinkin’ yeh might want it some day ; an’ 
now, tank de Lor’, de day hab come.” 

“ Why, Archy,” said Robert, laughing, “ you surely 
do not thank the Lord for this opportunity of using 
your money ?” 

“No, Mauss Robut, yeh knows all ’bout dat. I’d 
die to see yeh back wid de boys agin, but I ’m glad, 
as yell’s pris’ner, I’m along to help yeh.” 

“ It would indeed ease the trials that I am satisfied 
lie before us if I felt sure we could be together. I 
think, however, that before twenty-four hours you and 
I will be parted. I want to prepare you for this, Archy. 
Heretofore they have sold or used for their own pur- 
poses £fll the colored servants of Union officers they 
have captured. We cannot hope your case will be an 
exception.” 

“No, Mauss Robut,” interrupted Archy, with a 
tremulous voice ; “I do n’t spect to be a ’ception, 
but when yeh gets home tell Susey whar I is, an’ kar 
for de pickaninnies.” 

Robert laid his hand kindly on the faithful fellow’s 
shoulder. 

“ Archy, I hope we may get home together. The 
war will soon end, and I will find you out, and if I 
cannot, you must hunt up some Union soldier and get 
him to write to me at Brazoria. Do whatever they may 


“DE RES’ OF DE GOLD.” 


491 


require of you, Archy. It will only be for a short time.” 

“ De good Lor’ ’ll watch me, Mauss Robut. But,” 
he added, as if ashamed of calling attention to his 
own case, “ I does n’t keer fur meself. I ’se thinkin’ 
about yeh, Mauss Robut, an’ what yeh ’s got to 
suffer, an’ I not near J” 

“ Well, Archy, now that I have boots I feel better. 
Come, do n’t get down-hearted. If they do not part 
us before to-morrow night I think we can give them 
the slip.” 

The last was said in a whisper, but it caused a 
wonderful change in Archy’s face as he turned it full 
on his master, and said in a low, earnest voice, “ May 
de good Lor’ jes’ give us half a chance.” 

Archy then fumbled around in his pocket, and at 
length pulled out a red bandana, which he slipped un- 
noticed into his master’s hand. 

“ Why, Archy, what is this?” 

“Bat ar ’s de res’ of de gold.” 

“ I know, Archy, but I cannot take this. You will 
need it more than I.” 

“No, mauss, I ’s got more ’n two hundred dollars 
in greenbacks. I s’e been very savin’. Bey stole 
yer money. Keep dat, please, Mauss Robut. I’ll 
feel better.” 

This was said in a tone that Robert could not refuse 
and leave poor Archy anything but miserable, so he 
hid the red handkerchief carefully away — first, how- 
ever, with Archy’s consent, taking out two pieces, 
which he found an opportunity to give to the brave 
Ohio orderly. 

That was a miserable night. The wind blew the 
light sand in blinding clouds through the open sides 


49Q 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


And glassless windows of the “ guard-house/ ’ The 
stock of fuel was exhausted early in the night, and 
the men gathered about the dying embers, some nar- 
rating with brutal oaths tlie'r adventures in love and 
war, and others freely commenting on the result of the 
war. The few Yankees crowded together, and their 
part of the floor was respected by their desperate fel- 
low-prisoners. Through the night the sleep of !Rob- 
ert was often disturbed by the reliefs and the shouts 
of the guards as they announced the hours, ever clos- 
ing with the chilling words, “ All ’s well.” 

Morning came, and with it a small ration of corn- 
bread and bacon ; but the men were hungry, and some 
ate the meat without cooking. Archy was toasting 
some before the fire on a forked stick, when an officer 
entered the guard-house and asked for Major Warren. 

“ That is my name, sir ! ” 

“I come for your servant, sir. Where is he?” 

“ You will find him cooking at the fire.” 

Archy overheard the conversation and rose with 
the forked stick in his hand. He drew himself up 
till he seemed a head and shoulder above every man 
in the guard-house. His wide nostrils dilated, and 
the left arm, held rigidly by his side, and the knotted 
muscles and clenched hand gave him an air of fierce 
determination that quite startled the officer. 

“ What is your name, boy ? ” demanded the officer. 

“I’m not a boy, sir. I’m a man!” As Archy 
replied he strode to his master’s side and turned his 
burning black eyes on the rebel. 

“ I asked you your name ! No d d airs, boy, to 

me. I ain’t one of those men as kin be sassed by a 
nigger !” 


servant and master parted. 


493 


“ My servant’s name is Areliy Warren,” said Robert 
as he laid his hand on the still rigid left arm. “ He 
has his freedom papers, and I demand that he be 
treated as a prisoner, and not as a slave.” 

“Stuff! You Yanks confiscate our niggers — of 
course we ’re agoin’ to feed yours an’ dress ’em an* 
send ’em back clean * an’ greasy ; that ’s jes’ like us. 
Come with me, boy.” As the rebel spoke he walked 
toward the door and motioned Archy to follow. 

“ Go, Archy, my brave boy. Be prudent. God 
bless you ! A short time, Archy, and all will be well.’* 
Robert’s voice grew husky as he clasped the faithful, 
ever-ready hand. 

“God bless yeh, Mauss Bob! May yeh git back 
safe to de ole home ; an’ if I neber comes back kar 
fur Susey an’ de piccaninnies.” Archy raised his mas- 
ter’s hand to his lips and left on the bronzed fingers 
two great tears, then he pulled on his cap and walked 
out, with the rebel leading. Down to a little frame 
building near the depot they walked and entered. A 
number of clerks, busy at rough, extemporized desks, 
and a number of officers, smoking and chewing about 
the room, turned to greet the officer and stare with a 
pro-slavery admiration on the powerful negro who 
accompanied him. 

“ By the great Confederacy, Chauncy, that *s a 
prize. There ’s ten thousand dollars paper currency 
in that fellow if there ’s a cent.” 

The man that spoke wore on his upturned coal 
collar the single star of a major, and on his puffy, 
patch-haired face the evidences of large quantities ot 
bad whisky. 

“ He ’ll do, major, though he ’s a sassy cuss, a v 
42 


494 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


will need takin’ down afore we kin git any good out 
of him. The cussed Yanks have spoiled him. Why, 
what do you ’spose the black dog said to me when I 
called him a boy this morning?” 

“ Why, perhaps he told you he was a girl,” said the 
major, while his companions joined him in a laugh at 
what he deemed a very good joke. 

“ No,” said Lieutenant Chauncy, getting red in the 
face, as if the very memory of Archy’s insolence 
roused his indignation. “ No ; he looked as savage as 
an alligator, and told me he was a man.” 

Another burst of laughter greeted this announce- 
ment, while Archy, cap in hand, looked at the speaker 
unmoved. 

“ About fifty, laid on good and strong, would do 
him right smart good,” added Chauncy, “an’ he’ll 
git it afore we git through with him.” 

4 ‘ I understand that fellow Warren is to be tried. 
Hope to Heaven they’ll hang him,” said the major. 

“ Yes, they start him for Mobile to-night. Scott is 
down there, and the d — d Yank has n’t much to hope 
from General Maury.” 

As the lieutenant closed he looked at Archy, and 
seemed alarmed at the change in his appearance. 
His arms hung powerless by his side. The defiant air 
was gone. His head dropped on his breast, and his 
lips were parted, showing his white teeth, which 
seemed to increase the look of fear on his face. 

“What’s wrong, boy?” demanded Chauncy, shak- 
ing him. 

4 4 Nothin’, mausser, but don’t hurt Mauss Eobut. 
He neber did no wrong ! ” 

“ The devil you say ! Now that’s good. So disin- 


HANDCUFFED AND CHAINED. 495 

terested ! You ’ve seen the last of him, and I ’ll give 
you some advice boy. If you wish to keep the skin 
of your back sound, just keep your mouth shut about 
that hound Warren.”' 

I would n’t let that fellow go down to Meridian 
without keer, Chauncy,” suggested the major “ he’s 
bin long enough with the Yanks to be devilish ; put on 
the irons.” 

One of the clerks heard this, and volunteered the 
information that there were handcuffs and a ball and 
chain under his desk — “ the same,” he said, “ that 
Mr. King’s boy Bill had on when he was shot.” 

The handcuffs were taken out, and the clerk drew 
forth the chain, with the ankle-ring at one end and 
the ponderous ball at the other. 

“ Bon ’t pud dem on me, mausser. I ’ll not run 
off. I’ll keep my word when I says so.” As Archy 
spoke he drew back with a shudder from the hand- 
cuffs and chain. 

“ Here, none of your cussed gab. I ’m agoin’ to 
guard agin your gittin’ off. I jis’ know how much 
confidence to give to niggers like you ! ” As Chauncy 
spoke, he picked up the handcuffs and drew the ball 
and chain after him. Approaching Archy, he de- 
manded, “ Hold out your hands, boy ! ” 

With his head still bowed on his breast, Archy 
reached out his stalwart arms, and with a sudden 
click the handcuffs sprung upon his wrists. 

“ Thar ’s only one ring, but I don ’t think you ’ll un- 
dertake to run off with an eigfity-pound ball on your leg.” 

As Chauncy spoke, he stooped and fastened the 
ring to Archy’ s ankle, and drew out the chain with 
the ponderous ball to its full length. 


496 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“The train starts for Meridian in about twenty 
minutes. Are you going to send the nigger down?'* 
asked the major. 

“ Yes, I reckon on that now. Warren and the res* 
of ’em are goin’ down to-night. Kelton’s sale comes 
off to-morrow. I think we kin run this nigger in 
without any trouble. Good-by, major, we mus’ be off. 
Follow me, boy.” Chauncy motioned toward the door 
as be passed out, and Archy stooped and gathered 
up the chain. To ordinary men the ball would have 
rendered locomotion impossible, but he picked it 
up like a plaything, with his manacled hands, 
and throwing it over his shoulder he strode out of the 
room, his head still bowed on his breast, and the rat- 
tling of the great chain keeping time to his steps. 

There were horses on the car in which they placed 
the black man, and every precaution taken was for 
the safety of the horses. Archy envied them their 
free limbs as he dropped the ball on the floor, and 
coiled up his chain and sat down beside it. He had 
been a slave without bonds heretofore, and a servant 
without knowing a master, for every act had been the 
impulse of his unselfish love. Now, for the first time 
in his life, he felt himself a slave, and the very 
thought seemed to crush his free spirit. The cars 
rolled on, and gradually he forgot himself, forgot his 
handcuffs and the ball and chain, forgot to surmise 
his dreaded, uncertain fate, and his mind reverted to 
Robert. 

He wondered if the boots would fit him. Would 
they hang him in Mobile? How were his poor, blis- 
tered, sand-rubbed feet? He would escape if he got 
a chance — that was just like Mauss Robert Yes, and 


ARCHY’S MUSINGS AND TRIALS. 


497 


It was like himself, he would watch for the n*oment 
when the irons were off hands and legs to make an 
effort for freedom. What would Susey and the picka- 
ninnies think if they knew of his position? As 
Archy thought of this, he thanked God that the 
power to look beyond our own surroundings, and to 
pierce the future, was not given to man. Poor Susey, 
she was his in his pure natural love, but another’s in 
everything else. He hated the very name of Town- 
send, so cowardly, cruel, and mean. 

Thus his mind wandered as the cars rolled on so 
slowly over the broken, uncared-for road. Gradually 
the light lessened and the dark night came, and the 
cars kept going till they reached Meridian, where some 
men came, and Archy heard the anxi us directions 
about the horses, and the animals were led carefully 
out with words of fond encouragement and endearing 
names as they descended the sloping gangway. 

“Come out here, nigger!” called a voice, and 
Archy stooped and picked up the heavy ball, and, 
with the chain rattling as he moved, he descended 
the gangway and followed the long, cadaverous man 
who assumed charge of him. The unpaved streets 
were very sandy and heavy. The night was dark, and 
pattering drops, with gloomy palpitations of the south 
wind, threatened a rain. The long man, uncumbered 
by hand-cuffs or chains, strode rapidly along, while 
Archy, with the ring eating into his ancle at every 
step, and his ironed wrists tortured as they held the 
heavy ball on his shoulder, struggled on in the hope 
of keeping up. Once he stumbled and the ball fell, 
and with a savage oath the long man turned and 
struck him as he was picking it up. Archy again re- 
42 * 


498 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


sumed Jiis journey, the sweat standing in great heads 
on his black forehead, and the excruciating pain in 
wrists and ancle growing more intense. He had never 
been struck before, and his spirit, so simple and affec- 
tionate, rose against the insult. Had he been free 
as to his limbs, it would have fared badly with the 
long man then ; as it was he choked down the fierce 
words that rose to his lips, and kept on. 

They reached the pen, a sort of cattle inclosure 
with a number of miserable huts about it, and Archy 
was registered at the gate, then turned in, with another 
imprecation from the long white man, who cursed him 
for a “lazy black dog.” There were a number of 
negroes inside, of every age and sex, all booked for 
the morrow’s sale. A few powerful-looking fellows 
were chained, and one lay on the ground with a gag 
in his mouth and his limbs bound, while beside him, 
with her little ones nestling near her, his wife sat. 

An old woman, tom from her son, swayed herself 
back and forth near the red fire, and a mother in a 
blind stupor, and with her wailing moans, held her 
hands crossed on the breast from which a child had 
been torn. It was a Sabbath night, and in a thousand 
churches the southern people gathered to invoke 
G-od’s blessing on their cause ; and while the masters 
prayed at the altar the slaves groaned in the pen, and 
He who called his followers from among the poor and 
lowly heard the groans. 

Archy was hungry, and a score of willing hands 
were ready to divide with him their scanty fare ; and 
after he had eaten they gathered about to hear of 
freedom — gradually coming nearer — and to draw com- 
fort, in their distress, from the firm words of the 


ON THE AUCTION-BLOCK. 499 

mancled black man. Arch/s ancle and wrists were 
sore, and the ball, which in the morning seemed to 
bis giant strength a toy, n >w hung to him like a very 
\ncubus. On a heap of corn husks in one of the 
'.abins he lay down, and with troubled dreams about 
his master, and the wife and little ones in Texas, he 
slept till morning. A coarse ration of corn-bread 
was then served out, and a man came in who saw that 
all the slaves washed themselves preparatory to the 
sale. The irons were taken off, bringing to body and 
spirit a feeling of such relief that Archy could have 
kissed the hand that did it. The sale took place in 
the pen, into which, by ten o’clock, had gathered old 
planters to purchase, and young men to joke — old 
planters that the previous night had invoked God to 
aid them, and young men armed in the name of free- 
dom and country. Why picture that scene of heart- 
rending, the parting of mother and babes, wife and 
husband, and life-long friends — poor in everything, 
save that wealth of affection which a common suffering 
gives? Arehy’s turn came ; and as the Confederate 
States Government owned him, the receiver for that 
district sold him for the Government, the money to be 
appropriated to the southern cause. The black man, 
barefooted, stood on the block, with his head cast 
down, while the auctioneer pointed to what every 
spectator could see, the wonderful physique of the man. 

“ Make him take off liis shirt,” said a man whom 
Archy recognized as the long, cadaverous man of the 
previous evening. The request of the long man was 
the demand of the auctioneer. Archy fastened his 
braces around his waist and took off his shirt ; then he 
folded his arms, so indicative of strength, on his 


500 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


heavily-muscled chest, and with one foot advanced o» 
the block, he stood a slave-god before his worshipers. 

“Looks like an onery-dispositioned nigger ,’ 9 said 
one man. “ Strong as a lion and harmless as a lamb,” 
said the auctioneer, as he prepared for the bids. 
The competition was sharp, and at length the long 
man secured the purchase for nine thousand dollars, 
a sum at which Archy was deemed “ dirt cheap,” 
comparing Confederate money with gold ; but even 
at that time the most sanguine rebels considered the 
possibility of Union success, and in such case the 
certainty of freedom to ali men. * 

That night Archy was sent to a plantation between 
York and Meridian, the long man warning him as they 
started that “it wonldn’t do nohowto put on any 
airs with him; he couldn’t stan’ a sassy nigger ; he 
wanted work, and he (Archy) mus 1 come right down 

an’ do it ; mus’ get rid of d d Yankee notions an* 

behave, an’ then it ’d be well enough.” 

“ Wid de help ob de Lor/ maussa, I ’ll try to do 
right,” said Archy, as he passed out, feeling for the 
Erst time in his life that he was a slave. 


CHAPTER XL. 


A MIGHTY MAN OF WAR. 

The day following that on which Archy had been 
sold at Meridian, his master passed through the same 
place in charge of Lieutenant Garrett, en route to 
Mobile. The lieutenant was a fiery, little fellow, with 
a scrubby, red moustache and hair of the same color. 
He kept his belt buckled so tight about his waist that 
it seemed to force all his digestive organs into his 
protruding breast, and gave his face a full, flushed 
appearance, as if he were determined to hold his 
breath or burst. His reddish-gray, protruding eyes 
would warrant this suspicion. He looked like a 
human torpedo filled with the most dangerous ingre- 
dients, needing but a spark to explode him or wrap 
his glowing body in flames. He had a military strut 
that was very effective, and though only five feet two, 
and short in the legs, he walked with a stride that 
threatened to split him at each fierce step. He carried 
his left side, where hung his huge sword, a little in 
advance of his right, like a sentinel advancing to 
challenge. That portion of his arms not swallowed 
up in a pair of cavernous, bell-mouthed gauntlets was 
decorated with a labyrinth of gold lace, so intricate 
in its glittering windings that a ground plan of the 
affair would far eclipse the once famed Cretan arrange- 
ment. The lieutenant wore a cap with two gold braids 


502 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


about the circumference, and another maze of lace 
about the little, round button on top, like the dear 
castle-puzzle of our childhood. Like the Queen’s 
Life-Guards, and other nobby soldiers, the cap was four 
sizes too small, and was held on the side of the round, 
red head by a strap so short as only to reach the under 
lip, which the lieutenant kept protruded in a very 
grim and martial manner in order to hold his cap on. 
As he chewed tobacco and spat very freely, the strap 
was continually getting into his mouth and interfering 
with the proper ejectment of the amber saliva, so 
that much of it fell short, and left its mark on the 
doubled-breasted front of the coat, where the dazzling 
buttons, marked “C. S. A.,” strained about the 
mighty chest. This description, though not applicable 
to all, is accurate as to a conspicuous class of Southern 
line officers. Garrett had heard about Warren, and 
was determined that his prisoner should know he had 
a determined fellow to care for him, so he paced 
the car, despite the fact that his sword got mixed up 
with the arms of the seats and passengers* and each 
time he passed his prisoner he stared at him with a 
look which seemed to say : “ It won’t pay, sir, to at- 
tempt any d — d nonsense with Lieutenant Garrett. 
Bet your life on that, sir?” 

The ride was very long, the train very slow, and the 
only break in the monotony was when an officer with 
a half dozen soldiers at his heels would pass through 
the cars to examine the papers of the passengers. At 
such times Garrett had to show his orders, which he 
always did in the presence of his prisoner, with his 
breast stuck out, his head thrown back, and one foot 
advanced, Like a knight errant in a gas-fixture store, 


“A FELLOW FEELING,” ETC. 


603 


while his gauntleted left hand played nervously with 
the brass butt of his monstrous sword. 

Eobert Warren at the first measured the man ex- 
actly, but he was too much depressed to take advan- 
tage of his knowledge, which fact the lieutenant in- 
terpreted into fear, and this gave him a regard for his 
prisoner, for it flattered his own vanity. 

Below Meridian Eobert motioned to the lieutenant, 
and that individual advanced and struck an attitude, 
without noticing the seat Eobert had made for him. 

“ Lieutenant, when do you expect to reach Mobile ?” 

‘‘To-night, sir.” 

Is there a place in Mobile exclusively for Yankee 
prisoners ?” 

“ No, sir ; except the slave pen.” 

“ Oh, that will do very well. By the way, lieuten- 
ant, you must be hungry. Do we stop at any place 
where we can get something to eat and drink before 
reaching Mobile ?” 

The lieutenant softened a little. This Yankee was 
a creature something like himself. He was subject 
to hunger and thirst. Thirst ! The very thought of 
the Yankee’s thirsting unbent the fiery lieutenant, 
and he gradually edged nearer, and finally slid into 
the seat with his sword between his legs. 

“Yes, sir — yes, major. We stop at a station, sir, 
after a while. Are you thirsty ? ” 

“ Thirsty ! Very ; and more hungry.” 

“We have something to eat on the cars, but nothing 
except water to drink, sir.” 

“ I am obliged, lieutenant, but I can wait till we 
reach the place you alluded to, when I will be obliged, 
if you permit me, to purchase some food.” 


604 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


"tWtainly, sir. But, sir, you must not ge : from 
under my eyes.” The lieutenant rose as he spoke 
and lfyoked down on his prisoner, though his promi- 
nent eyes had lost much of their fierceness, nd he 
permitted the strap of his cap to slip from under his 
lip a^id hang under his pug nose. 

It was ^fter dark when the wheezy engine stopped, 
and t^e crowd of hungry passengers rushed toward 
Che of the three frame houses near the station, where 
a black man was hammering a gong with terrific 
energy. 

“Stand by me, sir. Keep close alongside, sir.” 
As the lieutenant ejaculated this he laid his hand on 
Robert’s arm, as if its weight would deter him from 
attempting to escape, and they moved along with the 
crowd toward the house where the gong was sounu- 
ing. The lieutenant walked up to a man, whom he 
appeared to know, and said : 

“ Gunning. T have a prisoner ” Before the lieu- 

tenant could finish the sentence, Gunning interrupted 
aim wi«,ii an oath, adding : 

“ Bully for you, lieutenant. Let ’s see him.” 

“ I want you to give H.n ^me supper,'' saici tne 
lieutenant, pointing to ne prisoner. 

“Now see heah, Mr. Barrett/* Gunning assume. 1 
a dignified attitude. “ I ’m willin’ to do all I can for 
the Confederacy an’ the soldiers, but cuss me if I ’m 
agoin* to let any Yank eat at my table/' 

“T will nnv you, sir, for the food, and as to eatiii 
at your table, I assure you I do not desire it. I wm 
something to eat,” said Robert, in a very cow tone. 

“The fact is, Gunning, how am I to eat? x must 
have fcki c prisoner under my eye all the time, you see. 


RED-FACED CHIVALRY. 


605 


and I do n’t want to starve him just because he ’s so 
unfortunate as to be a Yank.” 

“Well, hurry up ; I’ll give him a place at the 
carving table, and watch him myself.” 

Robert was hurriedly conducted to the table, where 
a negro was carving, and directly back of him the 
fiery Garrett sat down to a supper anything but con- 
ducive to digestion, for the meat, the sweet potatoes, 
and corn-bread were all cooked in that king of culinary 
articles in a Southern kitchen— the frying-pan. 

The negro who stood filling the plates with tough 
steak at the carving-table was most attentive to the 
prisoner, and took occasion to ask, in a whisper: 

“ When ’s de res’ a cornin’?” 

“Soon,” said Robert, in a low voice; “but not 
prisoners.” 

“ Tank de Lor’ !” and the negro rolled up his eyes 
and worked more energetically among the steak and 
sweet potatoes. 

Garrett had one Southern characteristic, viz : lib- 
erality. * He would not let the prisoner pay for what 
he had eaten, and he succeeded in getting some cigars 
and a bottle of bad whisky, which he intended the 
prisoner should partake of, but which the prisoner 
really could not do, though he often went through the 
motions. 

Before they reached Mobile, early next morning, 
the lieutenant was redder than ever. His face fairly 
burned under the influence the fiery whisky. He 
took occasion during the night 0 inform his prisoner 
that his was a constitute. n of If n, that he never felt 
fatigued ; could go for a wett . without sleep, and 
drink all the time. This, hfc further informed the 


606 


WARREN Or TEXAS. 


prisoner, was the result of blood. “ I have lots of 
good blood in me, sir. My grandfather you may 
have heard of — Garrett ; same name ’s mine, sir.” 

The prisoner felt certain he had heard of the dis- 
tinguished grandfather, but could not remember the 
connection. 

“ He was sure of his man, sir, at forty paces, and 
it broke his heart when he got the palsy at seventy- 
five.” 

“A very remarkable man, lieutenant,’ ’ the pris- 
oner thought it proper to say. 

“ Yes, sir, but I’m his equal. I never went back 
of my word, sir, in an affair of that kind.” 

In this strain the lieutenant kept on the greater 
part of the night. By the following morning they 
reached Mobile, the lieutenant’s appearance throw- 
ing very strong suspicions on his boasted powers of 
endurance. 

“ I must take you at once, sir, to Major Dennis, the 
provost marshal,” said the lieutenant. 

“ All right, lieutenant, I feel safe in your hands.” 

Major Dennis’s office was near the Battle House, 
some distance from the depot, and therefore the little 
lieutenant and the big prisoner went — in a carriage. 
The major was not in when they arrived, but soon put 
in an appearance. The lieutenant in the /meantime, 
feeling that a great weight was lifted off hl> shoulders, 
collapsed like a little red balloon, and dropping his 
head on his sunken bosom he snored audibly. 

Major Dennis was a lawyer-like, gentlemanly fellow, 
about forty years of age, with heavy, brown whiskers, 
and a deliberate way of speaking, in striking contrast 
to the lieutenant, who woke up when the major en 


UNPROFITABLE COLLOQUY. 


50 ? 


tered, and looked as wide awake as his red eyes and 
purple face would let him. The work of transferring 
the prisoner was short, when Major Dennis sent for a 
guard. Then turning to the prisoner, he said : 

“We have heard much of you, Major Warren, and 
I am heartily glad you are here.” 

“You are very kind, sir, but I deserve no credit 
for the visit.” 

The provost marshal formed his lips as if about to 
smile, but instead, a dry expression, that might pass 
for anything, was produced. 

“We will send you on to Montgomery to-morrow, 
sir, and forward the charges with you.” 

‘ ‘ Might I ask what charges ? ” 

“ I have no objections to saying you are accused, 
and I think with reason, of having entered the Con- 
federate lines at certain times disguised as a friend, 
for the purpose of spying.” 

“ Supposing what you say to be true, w^ I caught 
in your uniform? Was I captured trying ic pKy the 
friend?” 

“ I believe not.” 

“ I am sure I was not. I had given fcjiit to some 
of your people below Vicksburg, and was returning 
with them, when I was scooped up ahead, of my com- 
mand. However, this is no place, nor is this the time 
to defend myself. I have no fears of a trial, if it be 
fair.” 

“ Fair it certainly will be. But, sir, we have 
more feeling against men of your class, born and 
raised in the South, as I learn you were, than against 
regular Yankees.” 

“ On the same principle, I suppose, you have more 


508 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


love for northern men fighting on your side than you 
have, for those to the manner born.” 

“We do not discriminate. Patriots are patriots.” 

As the provost marshal closed speaking, a sergeant, 
accompanied by three armed men, entered. The ser- 
geant was called aside for his instructions. Then 
Robert Warren shook hands with the lieutenant, 
bowed to the provost marshal, and with the sergeant 
by his side, and the three armed men behind, he 
walked into the street, and followed by the taunts 
and jeers of the crowd that gathered to see him, he 
reached the prison. 

It could not be worse than the place at Brandon. 
It was certainly better than the close car, reeking with 
the smell of smoke and whisky, and dinned by vulgar 
jokes, and ribald songs, and oaths most blasphemous. 

“Have you any valuables about you?” asked the 
turnkey, with a grim smile. 

“ Search and see for yourself,” said Robert, placing 
himself in an attitude to facilitate the investigation 
if the turnkey desired. 

“ You are too willin’. If you got down to this 
jail with anything but your good name, you’d jest be 
the luckiest Yank I’ve come across since I ’ve been 
keepin’ boardin’ house.” 

The turnkey led the way as he spoke, and entering 
a long corridor, the guards remained behind. Grated 
doors, with the dim light just visible inside, were 
ranged on either hand, and the sound of their foot- 
steps echoed cold and hollow. Here and there a face 
peered through the gratings. 

“Hello, comrade !” shouted a voice through one of 
the doors. 


WARREN IN A DUNGEON. 


609 


4 ‘How is God’s country?” 

“All is well in God’s country,” replied Robert, 
feeling a thrill of joy as he heard what he felt was a 
comrade’s voice. 

At the further end of the hall, the turnkey stopped, 
and opened a door. 

‘ 4 This ain’t a nice place, but it’s all alone. I ’d rather 
give you a better room, but the fact is I ’ve got to 
obey orders. Major Dennis knows every corner here, 
and he selected this for you.” 

44 Oh, it will do well enough. I go to Montgomery 
to-morrow, and as I am tired the darkness will be all 
the better for sleep.” 

44 Wall, maybe you’ll go to Montgomery to-morrow. 
People may change their minds. Hold up awhile an’ 
I ’ll send your breakfast. Them’s the orders, though 
it’s right smart after breakfast now.” 

Robert walked into the cell, and the heavy door 
grated behind him, and closed with a bang that echoed 
with a painful effect along the corridor. An iron 
bedstead with a mattress, a dirty pillow and a grey 
blanket on it, a tin wash-basin and a coarse horn comb 
chained like prisoners to staples in the wall, an 
earthen pitcher and a tin cup constituted the furniture 
of the cell. The small aperture through which the 
light came was heavily barred, though too small of 
itself to permit the exit of a man’s body. The walls 
were very damp and dark, the floor was of sheet iron, 
and the ceiling out of reach even when standing on 
the bed. 

“Not an inviting place, to be sure. It would be 
difficult to get out of here, that’s true ; but there is 
no use in thinking of escape now. To-morrow I start 
43 * 


610 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


for Montgomery ; then will come my time.” As Itobert 
thought this over he threw himself on the hard mat- 
tress with a sigh of relief. He had scarcely done so 
when he heard a knock at his door, and said “Come 

in r 

“Not much ; heah, Yank, come to the door !” 

Robert obeyed the voice. The grating opened on 
a hinge, and through the aperture a hand was thrust 
with a tin plate filled with steaming beans. Robert 
seized it, and the hand came back with a piece of corn- 
bread. “Hand out that ar pitcher for water.” 

Robert passed out the pitcher and it was handed 
back filled with water. 

“ Thar, Yank, ’conomize on that till to-morrow morn- 
ing” 

The grating swung to with a metallic thug, and the 
steps of the man went ringing down the corridor. 

“That’s not the turnkey that brought me here,” 
said Robert to himself as he sat on the bed, and with 
the iron spoon tried to eat the insipid beans. He 
gave the task up as hopeless. lie did not feel hungry. 
So he pulled off his boots and coat, loosened his 
clothing, and stretched himself on the iron bedstead, 
which he found about six inches too short, but he 
slept. 

When he awoke the glimpse of far-off blue sky 
seemed to have faded into a leaden grey. The cell was 
much darker, and he felt a chilly feeling creeping over 
him like a return of the fever from which he had just 
recovered. 

He managed to eat some of the corn -bread and 
beans, then he stood up near the window^ and washed 
the grey dying out, and darkness consul^ on. The 


MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 


611 


cel] was very black, and the utter stillness very op- 
pressive. “I certainly could not stand this long. I 
wish it were morning. 5 5 Robert spoke aloud — the very 
bound was a comfort — and walked back to the bed. 
He lay down, and for hours memory was busy with the 
past. He began with memory and childhood ; youth 
and manhood marched past in review ; familiar faces 
and places lit up the panorama at times, while scenes 
of sorrow and days of suffering added to the gloomy 
setting of the picture. 

“ What a blessing a watch and candle would be. 1 
wonder what time it is. 55 He rose and peeped out 
through the grated door into the black corridor ; lie 
heard a low, hollow cough away down on the opposite 
side. ‘‘That chap ought to be in the hospital. Con- 
sumption is a fearful thing, and in such a place. 5 * 

He stood and heard the cough again and again, and 
sad as was the sound it brought him comfort and com- 
pany. It told him there was a fellow creature near 
him suffering more than he was, and though the most 
unselfish of men, the very thought was a comparative 
pleasure. 

“Who can the poor fellow be T 5 thought Robert. 
“A criminal, no doubt, who has been in here a long 
time. Some wretch who, under circumstances of life 
and education that would have hung the judge who 
sentenced him, had he been subjected to them, has 
been sent here for the good of society. He is friend- 
less and poor, I am certain ; had he wealth he would 
never have reached here ; had he friends he would 
not remain here. I wish I could aid him. Justice is 
as blind as Love, and about as reasonable. Ah, me V 9 

Again the painful cough was beard ; there was 


612 


BARREN OF TEXAS. 


something in the sound that told Robert it was that of 
a young man. “I wonder if he is black or white? 
But no matter, I wish I could aid him.” Robert felt 
the belt next to his body, where was secreted the gold 
Archy had given him. “A barrier separates us, and 
the suffering man will die, unknowing the vicinity of 
a friend. He coughs with great pain. Wiiatifhe 
were a Yankee — a comrade kept here by the whim of 
his jailors.” The very thought increased Robert’s 
chill, and he walked back to the bed and tried to shut 
out the sound — it was too horribly suggestive. 

At times during the long night Robert slept, but 
his sleep was broken and disturbed by wild dreams 
and gloomy surroundings. 

It was a relief when morning came, and with the 
light the heavy, echoing tread of the turnkey. As he 
approached, Robert whispered to himself: “Thank 
God, this is the last night here.” 

Again there was the sound of unfastening the grate, 
and the gray arm was inserted through the opening. 

“Hand out them things !” 

“What things?” 

“Confound you, them tin things.” 

“All right ; do n’t get mad.” 

The “tin things” with the cold beans and hard 
corn-bread were passed out. 

“ Oh, dainty, are you V said the voice outside ; “all 
right, you’ll be glad to eat this bimeby.” There was 
a sound outside of stirring in a tin bucket ; then the 
hand was passed in with the plate and some hot beans, 
and then came the corn-bread and the demand for the 
pitcher and slop-pail. They were passed out, and the 
pi tcher handed back again filled with water. There was 


THE TURNKEY’S MOCKERY. 


513 


some person with the turnkey — “ a servant, no doubt, to 
help him carry the articles around,” thought Robert. 
The grating closed, and the turnkey came back, after 
having walked off some distance, and said through the 
door, “I T1 be back before night.” 

“ When do you start me for Montgomery ? ” 

* ‘ For Montgomery ? ’ ’ 

“Yes.” 

The turnkey walked away, and his low “ Ha, ha. 
ha ! ” struck on Robert’s ears as no sound ever had 
before. He was hungry, and he sat down and ate the 
beans, so hard and insipid, and tried to gnaw the 
softer part of the heavy corn-bread. 

The turnkey walked back again, uttering a laugh, 
the mockery and hollowness of which was increased 
by the stillness which it broke and the echoes which 
it started. 

“ We ’ll tell ye in plenty time ter pack yer trunk.” 

The stillness of night is always bearable because 
expected ; the same stillness to an active nature in the 
day is ever oppressive. Robert walked back to the 
bed and sat down, with his face between his hands. 

“It would be horrible,” he thought, “ to remain 
here long. I wonder if that fellow Dennis lied. It 
would be just like the cold-blooded wretch!’’ He 
chased the suspicion from his mind, and walked back 
and forth in his cramped cell, blaming himself for 
not having gotten off or attempted it when on his 
way to Mobile. The hours slipped past like a monot- 
onous age, and the red clouds, visible through the 
little barred aperture in his cell, told him the sun was 
setting in the outer world. He wanted to see the 
sun, and drawing the iron bedstead near the window. 


514 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


he stood upon it and looked out. A blank, cold wall, 
without windows or doors, like a face without eyes, 
stopped his vision a few yards distant. So he turned 
his eyes up, resting his arm on the tunnel-like ap- 
proach to the window, and watched the changes in 
sky and clouds till the cold gray was lost in the dark- 
ness ; and, though the world around him was hidden 
by the walls and the night, the very darkness con- 
cealed far off the glory of distant worlds, and til 3 
star-light softened the shadows of the cell. 

“ Come down from thar, I say ! Thar ’s no use in 
them kinder tricks ! ” 

Robert got down, pushed back the bed, and, grop- 
ing toward the door, he felt the arm protruding 
through the grating, and the voice outside asking for 
“them tins.” 

“ Why did they not send me to Montgomery to- 
day, as the provost marshal promised ? ” asked Robert. 

“It ain’t for me ter say why. I gits orders an’ I 
obeys ’em. My ’pinion is you ’ll breathe more Mobile 
than Montgomery air in the next year, if yeh kin hold 
out.” 

“ What makes you think so?” 

“Wall, we ’ve got another chap over here Ye h 
may hear him a-hacking at night. He ain’t a man 
yet, but he ’s chuck full of devil. He was sent down 
here from Tennessee or Georgia, whar he wuz cap- 
tured, a kind o’ spyin’. They wuz agoin’ ter hang 
him, but they reckoned it ’ed be more Christian ter 
keep him here.” 

“ That was very kind. What might the young man’s 
name be?” 

“ He ’s registered as Edward Dawn ; a yaller- 


A PARLEY. 


515 


headed whelp as ever lived, an’ as proud an’ sassy as 
if he was agwine ter live a thousand years.” 

The turnkey, thanks to the darkness, could not see 
the expression on Robert’s face. 

“ It is a bad thing to be in jail ; but I am thankful 
that I have a man as kind as you to be my keeper.' * 

“Wall, I do my duty, I reckon,” said the turnkey, 
in a softer tone, “ an’ it ain’t my duty to talk to 
you.” 

He was about to walk away, having passed in the 
corn-bread and beans, but Robert called to him ; it 
was such a joy to have some one to talk to. 

“ I appreciate your position, my dear fellow. I am 
sorry we are enemies. You know how horrible it is 
to be alone. Trust me in one thing, and if I live to 
leave this cell, or even before, my word for it you 
will not regret it.” 

“Wall, what do you want, a candle?” 

“ God knows a candle would be a great blessing, 
but it is not that. Have you a brother? ” 

“ Yes, two of ’em, an’ bully boys they is !” 

“ Imagine one of your brothers a prisoner in the 
hands of the Yankees, in a black cell, with his fate 
uncertain, and his heart yearning for the voice of a 
friend.” 

“ Wall, what of it?” 

“ If I were the turnkey, and a southern man were 
in a cell near your brother’s, would you not want me 
to let men who fought in the same cause meet, and 
comfort each other, at legist by their words ?” 

“ Wall, I might want you to do a great many things 
that wan’t jes’ squar.” 

The turnkey walked off, and the soft footsteps of 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


616 

the person carrying the food followed after him. The 
door opened at the farther end of the corridor, then 
closed with a startling bang. The key grated in the 
lock, the echoes died out, and all was still in the living 
grave. 

Bobert could not eat, and as he sat on his bed think- 
ing about the brave “ Little Ned,” the old man’s pet — 
Tennessee’s boy-brother — he heard the painful hack- 
ing cough again, and he recognized something 
familiar in the sound. He stood near the grating, 
not daring to carry out the promptings of his heart 
bv calling Ned and announcing his own presence. 
He remained near the door he knew not how long, 
it might have been hours. He felt himself dozing 
and only his hold of the bars kept him from falling 
to the ground. 

He was about to let go his hold and feel his way to 
the bed, when his hand was seized on the bar, and he 
heard a low ‘ ‘ Hush ! ” His first impulse was to spring 
back. 

“ Who is there? ” he asked in a whisper. 

“ Me, mauss — Yalla Jack. I’s a frien’.” 

“ How did you get in here? ” 

“ I totes de beans fur Mr. Philips, de turnkey. I 
heerd yeh to-day. I ’s been a cornin’ in ebry night, a 
fotchin’ tings to dat ar’ poor chile.” 

“ Is it Ned Dawn ? ” 

“Yes, mauss. I crawls down de flume. I’s 
smaller dan yeh tinks from my talk.” 

“ A very diminutive mortal this must be,” thought 
Bobert, as the low, soft voice ceased. 

“ Yellow Jack, is it possible for me to get out of 
here, with your help? ” 


YELLOW JACK. 


517 


“ ’Fraid not, mauss. Yer too big, but anything 1 
kin do, led me know.” 

“ Very well, go at once to Ned Dawn’s cell and tell 
him I am here — his old captain, Warren. He must 
make no noise.” 

“ All right, mauss.” 

Robert listened and in a few seconds there was a 
sound like a pin-scratch in the direction from which 
had come the coughing. 

A low buz, a suppressed cough, and in a few min- 
utes, under his own cell door, came the scratch and 
the “ hush,” as before. 

“ Gosh, mauss, dat boy’s right smart sorry ye ’s 
heah, but it’ll do ’im right smart good ter know it. 
He loves ye a pile, I tell yell.” 

“ Yellow Jack?” 

“Yes, mauss.” 

“ If I give you a piece of gold, ten dollars, could you 
get me a Bible and some candles, and a pen and paper ?” 

“ I reckon so, mauss. But I kin get ’em widout 
de money.” 

‘ ‘ Have you money of your own ? ” 

“No mauss, but Pete, de Dutchman, gibs me all I 
want fur de Yankees.” 

“ Could you get him to give you some meat and a 
bottle of wine for that poor boy ? ” 

“ Yes, mauss, I brings him meat ebery night. Don’t 
know as how I could get a bottle trough de flume.” 

“ Surely you are larger than a bottle ? ” 

The shadow of a laugh came from below the door. 

“ I ’ll try to git him de wine.” 

“ Here, give this money to the Dutchman ; tell him 
what I want.” 


44 


618 


WARREN' OF TEXAS. 


Robert dropped the coin into the hat that was 
held up for it outside. “ Give my love to little Ned, 
and come every night.” 

“ I ’ll try mighty hard, mauss. To-morrow night 
I’ll be along, an’ den I’ll tell yeh what dey says ’bout 
a hangin’ ob yeh/' 

Robert could not hear the retreat, though he felt 
that “Yellow Jack,” the mysterious, had slipped 
away. He stretched himself on the bed, happier for 
the kind words of the negro, and building castles and 
forming plans from the slight material furnished by 
the slave. 


CHAPTER XLI. 


LITTLE NED. 

The next night “ Yellow Jack ” was again on hand. 
He brought two small candles and a book, but as he 
brought no matches the candles were practically use- 
less. He had a small phial filled with brandy for 
Ned, and a little parcel, which he informed Robert 
contained a pencil and some paper. 

“Take the brandy over to Ned at once, with my 
love. He must have some every day. Tell him to 
take about a spoonful every three hours when awake.” 

“ Yellow Jack ” was gone for a few minutes, and re- 
turned to say, “Ned wanted the captain to drink the 
brandy. ” 

“Tell that boy that I have given my orders about 
the brandy, and they must be carried out/’ 

In a short time the black boy came back, saying, 
in his soft whisper : 

“ He says, mauss, he ’ll ’bey yer orders all de time, 
an’ dat he feels much better.” 

Promising to return on the following night, the 
noiseless body moved away, and Robert stood listening 
for the cough. Once he heard a heavy sigh, as if 
from one in a troubled sleep. It came from the di- 
rection of Little Ned, and Robert felt thankful that 
he heard not the cough again. 


620 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


The candles, book, and paper were secreted early in 
the morning in the mattress. When the turnkey de- 
parted, after having served the corn-bread and beans, 
Robert looked out and saw a little gray-headed yel- 
low man waddling noiselessly along, a large pail in 
one hand and a basket in the other. He was not 
over four feet high, and his long body seemed to' be 
out of all proportion to his short, muscular limbs. 
His head seemed, with its gray, bushy hair, to be 
broader and deeper than his shoulders and breast, 
and would have been sufficiently large for a man six 
feet high. His arms were very long, so much so that 
to keep the articles carried from dragging on the 
ground, he had to keep his elbows bent and carry his 
burden in advance. Robert tried to catch a glimpse 
of his face, but he passed through the door at the 
end of the long passage in advance of the turnkey, 
and Robert heard the bolts snap and rattle behind 
the being in whom he was more immediately inter- 
ested than any person in the world. 

It was a great pleasure, after fastening his hat over 
the grating in the door, to lie down, with his back to 
the light, and read the words of comfort with a feel- 
ing of delight and satisfaction never before ex* 
perienced. He forgot the prison and the war in the 
record of the chosen people, who, through great 
tribulation, came up from bondage, and, after much 
trial, reached the Promised Land. He tried to draw 
a comparison between the Hebrew leaders and soldiers 
and those of his own land, and at times he caught him- 
self criticising the disposition Joshua made of his men. 
But Joshua was successful, and Robert felt the result 
was the only basis on which to found a judgment. 


YELLOW JACK DISAPPEARS. 


521 


The day passed quickly, and Robert looked out for 
the colored clouds that told him of evening, but the 
sky was overcast, and a low, moaning sound came 
through the grated aperture that admitted the light. 

Another ration of bread and beans, and the turn- 
key left. Robert tried to draw him into conversation, 
but without success. He ate, but the food, as before, 
was insipid, and the want of exercise and fresh air 
destroyed his appetite. He lay awake listening to 
the wailing wind outside and watching the lurid flashes 
of lightning that lit up the black sky. It was about 
time for “ Yellow Jack” to come. Robert stood by 
the door, his hamd on the bars, expecting the touch, 
and listening for the low whisper that would tell him 
his friend had come. Now and then a cough from 
Ned’s cell was heard, which he would answer by 
coughing himself ; but the negro did not come. Dur- 
ing the long hours Robert groped about his cell, re- 
turning every few minutes to the door, but there was 
no touch of the hand, no longed-for whisper. 

“It is raining hard outside ; no doubt Yellow Jack 
finds it impossible to get down through the ‘flume/ 
as he calls it, or get up, for I am at a loss to know 
how he comes in here. The next time I see him he 
must bring me a file or a small saw ; I can get into the 
hall then, and will try the dimensions of this ‘ flume/ 
If they keep me here much longer I think the ‘flume ’ 
will be plenty large.” 

Thus soliloquizing, standing near the door, and 
moving about the cell, Robert watched till the cold, 
leaden day came, with the wind still howling and the 
rain beating on the bars, and entering the room in a 
fine spray. The book was again a pleasure, and as on 
H* 


522 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


the island in ,he Caddo Lake, he wrote a letter to a 
loved one ; which he felt at the time she would never 
see. The turnkey was less communicative than before, 
and when night came Roberts hungry ears were wait- 
ing for the low “ hush ” and “ Yellow Jack’s” whisper, 
but they came not ; and as on the previous night he 
coughed in reply to the painful sounds from LUtle 
Ned’s cell. 

The next morning Robert watched the turnkey 
walking away, and his heart sank as he saw, instead 
of “Yellow Jack,” a gaunt, lantern-jawed white man 
carrying the bucket and basket. As the door was 
about to close Little Ned called out: 

“I want to see you, sir.” 

The turnkey went back, saying as he did : 

“Damn you, don’t yell as if I wuz deaf; liavn’t I 
told you about not hollerin’ ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Wall, don’t do it no more, if yeh want ter keep 
out uv the black cell.” 

Robert placed his ears to the bars, and he heard 
Little Ned in a lower voice : 

“I can’t stand this, sir ; my breast is very sore, and 
my cough is worse ; could n’t yeh let a doctor come to 
see me?” 

“ I reckon so, but I ain’t got nothin’ ter do with it. 
Yeh wuz sent heah ter die, I reckon. Don’t know 
why in h — 1 else they gives such orders ’bout you an* 
that Warren. I carries out the orders.” 

“ Very well, sir ; I ’ll try to stand it. I do n’t blame 
yeh ; I won’t complain.” 

Little Ned coughed again, and the turnkey walked 
out muttering something to himself, which Robert 
could not hear. 


NED AND WARREN PART. 


523 


The desire to speak to Little Ned was stronger than 
Robert’s prudence. About the middle of the day, 
hearing Ned cough again, he called out : 

“Ned ! Ned ! my boy !” 

“I hear yeh, captain ; how are yeh?” 

“I would be happier, Ned, if you had no cough.” 

“I ’ll be well soon, cap. I got a bad cold a-comin’ 
here, an’ this place has been a-killin’ me.” 

“ Where were you captured ?” 

“ On a scout near Rome. I got separated from 
grandad an’ Uncle Jim.” 

“ Why did they bring you here ?” 

“ Can’t say, cap. ; they talked about hangin’ of me.” 

The door at the end of the corridor suddenly opened, 
and the turnkey with a number of men entered hur- 
riedly. 

“What in h — 1 is all this noise for? I’ve tried to 
treat you infernal Yanks well, an’ heah fust chance 
yer a breakin’ the rules.” 

The turnkey stopped before Little Ned’s cell, and 
Robert saw the poor boy, so pale and emaciated, walked 
into the middle of the hall. He turned, and a smile 
lit up his thin face as he saw the * captain’ peering 
through the bars. 

“Come, I ’ll put you somewares else,” said the 
turnkey as he pushed Little Ned toward the door. 
Poor Ned turned his face and called out, “ God bless 
you, cap,” as the heavy door swung behind him, and 
the turnkey and his posse marched off as if they 
were guarding a dangerous giant. 

Robert tried to read, but before him on the pages 
the thin face of brave Little Ned was ever coming up, 
and above the storm without and wailing winds he 


524 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


heard the words. “This place has been a killin’ me.” 

The days went past so like each other that if it 
were not for the pencil marks on the book that stood 
for days Robert would have lost all judgment of time. 
The days became weeks and the weeks months, and 
he still remained in the narrow compass of his cell. 
Now and then the door opened and under the eyes of 
the turnkey a black man went through the form 
of cleaning out the damp cell. But the turnkey him- 
self grew more grim, taciturn, and monosyllabic. 
Robert felt his arms, so thin that the elbow joints 
seemed like knotty excrescences, and the skin tighten 
over his long, thin fingers like a yellow parchment. 
His limbs seemed withering away, and his ragged, 
dirty clothing felt baggy and uncomfortable. He 
tried hard to keep clean, but his hair grew long and 
matted, and his finger-nails looked hideous in their 
talon-like shape. His reason seemed to be going, 
and he would sit for hours counting the threads across 
the worn knees of his blue pants, and coughing a 
quick, hacking cough, that seemed to come with pain 
from his breast. His book, pencil, and paper were 
discovered and taken away. Day and night seemed 
alike to him. Life and death were equally indifferent. 
He grew childish about his food, and obeyed the 
turnkey’s every command with a child-like dread and 
willingness to please. Dying before his captors 
not as a soldier would ask to die, bleeding on the 
battle-field, with his last glance resting on the flag 
floating above the cannon’s smoke, but with strength 
and reason going, a crazed skeleton. 

0, Thou God of mercy and justice, who saw fit for 
Freedom’s sake, that we might better appreciate its 


A BRAVE MAN’S PROTEST. 


525 


worth, to let tens of thousands of fathers and brothers 
and sons die in the cells and prison-pens of the 
South — poor starved skeletons — keep down all feelings 
of anger and revenge that rise burning in our hearts 
as our tongues recite and our pens indite this cursed 
record of a people fighting in Thy name and asking 
for Thy aid ! But O, keep fresh the memory of the 
dead ! Bemind us when in the world’s business we 
forget the twin sister of Religion, Liberty, of the ter- 
rible sacrifice and suffering by which it was gained. 

Sixty-four came, and Robert Warren, once a giant 
in strength and a lion in courage, and a full man in 
his warm heart and good common ser.se, lay in the 
cell, his hollow cheeks flushed and his great bony 
chest heaving with his short, quick breathings. Be- 
side him a tall, red-headed man, in the uniform of a 
major-general in the Confederate army, stood. His 
voice trembled, and the moisture came to his grey 
eyes as he looked on the skeleton prisoner. 

“Major Dennis, this is the work of a low, cruel 
coward,” said General Wharton, as he turned with a 
look of indignation on his bronzed face to the provost 
marshal. 

“Excuse Mie, sir. I am not accustomed to being 
talked to in that way.” 

“You are not? God curse you for a cold-blooded 
villain.” 

Major Dennis cowered before the general’s burning 
gaze. 

“ Why did you not shoot or hang this man, Warren, 
at once. He was in our way, but he deserved a brave 
man’s treatment.” 

“We could not sustain the charges, and he w* 11 
better in jail.” 


525 


WAKREN OF TEXAS. 


“’Tis a lie, sir. He was not better in jail. We 
have no right to starve, and break down, and send 
crazed to the grave a man we have not the right to 
hang.” 

“General Wharton, you must be responsible to me 
for this insult.” 

“L — n your craven heart, any attempt to justify 
your cowardly conduct, and I’ll kill you on tliespot.” 

General Wharton motioned towards the door, and 
the provost marshal, a little paler but evidently as 
collected as ever, walked out. Tearing a slip from a 
blank book the general hurriedly penciled a note, 
and sent it by a turnkey to General Maury. Then 
he sat on the bed and took in his own strong hand 
the thin, bloodless fingers of his enemy, but the man 
whose daring he admired as a soldier above all others. 

“I wish they’d send me on to Montgomery. 
Where’s the use waiting so long?” 

As Robert spoke the general pushed back from his 
white forehead the matted, black hair. 

“Fjor Bob Warren, I knew you as a boy and a 
man. I once believed you bad, but from my soul I 
now think your every motive the prompting of prin- 
ciple,” 

“ I wish they ’d take care of Little Ned. That turn- 
key might have known it would break the old man’s 
heart if Little Ned was to die.” 

“ Who is this Little Ned?” asked the general of an 
attendant standing near. 

“ He ’s a boy as wuz captured in Georgia, or up 
thar. He wuz in Warren’s company.” 

“Never mind about that ; where is he now?” 

“He’s in the hospital, sir. The doctor sent him 
there a month ago.” 


RESCUED FROM THE DUNGEON. 


527 


“He did? then why, in the name of mercy, didn’t 
he send this man there?” pointing to Major Warren. 

“Wall, reckon as how the provost marshal did n’t 
want it.” 

As the attendant finished, General Maury, an old, 
soldierly-looking man, entered, and oo Wharton’s ex- 
plaining the situation in his strong emphatic way, the 
general denied any knowledge o'/ Warren*'* condition. 

“We deemed it best to keep him a prisoner, as he 
was a dangerous man, but the details were left to the 
provost marshal.” 

“Yes, curse him for a cruel coward. Why, this 
morning he told me as a piece of information, in his 
cold-blooded way, that Major Warren, who comes 
from my part of Texas, was dying in jail, and if I 
wished to see him I ’d better go down at once. I 
did, and here is a specimen of our cruelty. Why, 
General Maury, can we ask God’s aid, and sanction 
this ?” 

General Maury was confused ; he hesitated, then 
said: “I think not, General Wharton.” 

“ Now begin at once to undo this work. Major 
Warren must be cared for at once. If necessary, I 
will foot the bills. He must not remain here an hour, 
if I have to carry him off myself. There is one of 
his men here named Ned ; put him with that man.” 

General Wharton’s wishes w r ere complied with at 
once, and Robert Warren was carried from the dark 
cell to the roomy hospital, where he was bathed and 
clad under General Wharton’s supervision. A nurse 
was engaged to attend to him, and the doctor in 
charge, a skillful man, was promised a liberal reward 
in the event of Warren’s recovery. 


628 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


General Wharton remained about a w*«k in Mobile 
before rejoining his command in Georg*-*, but before 
he left the doctor informed him that Warren was 
slowly improving, though still unconscious. For 
weeks Robert Warren lay, the flickering light of rea-» 
son growing daily stronger, and the thin limbs slowly 
filling up. The doctor was as good as his premise, 
and the first soldier in the Confederacy could not 
have been better cared for. 

It was the beginning of the sunny southern April, 
when the perfume of the budding magnolias began to 
load the air, and the birds to take up the songs chilled 
by winter, when the doctor, sitting beside Robert’s 
bed, said : 

“Major, I think you are strong enough now to 
move a little.” 

“ Yes, doctor, strong enough to ride if I was back 
with my own men,” said Robert, holding up his white 
hand. 

There is one of your men in the next room; Ned 
Dawn. I fear he cannot live through the night. He 
wants to see you.” 

“It seems like a dream since poor Little Ned left 
the cell. How is his cough?” 

“ His cough is killing him, major.” 

“ I ’ll go ! Let me see him at once.” 

Robert tried to rise, but his spirit was stronger than 
his body. The doctor felt his pulse. 

“ Major, I fear you are not strong enough. Lie still 
on your cot, I will have it carried to where Dawn is.” 

The doctor soon carried out his intention ; four 
stalwart fellows picked up the cot, and the major was 
placed beside little Ned. He seemed wrapped in a 


“DOJST’T CALL ME BACK.” 


529 


peaceful sleep, his face was pale and translucent, and 
his thin hands clasped above his boyish, yellow head 

“ Poor boy ! ” 

“ Is that the captain ? ” 

“It is I, Little Ned.” 

“Give me your hand.” 

The beds were pushed closer together, and the cap- 
tain clasped the pale, damp hand. 

“How are you, cap?” 

“ Better, Ned. Are you?” 

“Yes, I feel better with you near. Grandad’s 
dead— > — ” 

“Who told you, Ned?” 

“ I saw him last night. His head was bleeding ; 
but he smiled, and said, ‘Poor Little Ned, I won’t be 
happy unless yer along.’ ” 

“No, Ned, he ’s living. You ’ll see him again.” 

“ Yes, cap, up there where there ’s no more fightinV’ 
One thin finger was raised. 

Through the day they lay side by side, and when 
evening came the setting sun filled the room with a 
golden glory, while the south wind scattered the in- 
cense of the spring flowers and brought the song of 
the birds. 

“ This is the good land mother spoke of. Don’t 
call me back, captain, I must obey. Do n’t call me 
back.” 

The moon came up full and round, so that no 
shadow of night came to the dying boy’s cot. He 
rambled in his mind at times, and spoke of war as a 
thing gone past. 

Day came, clear and fresh, and the rosy tinge of 
the rising sun colored the sky. 

45 


530 


BARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ Hold my hand, cap. There, keep me steady. 
Grandad is reaching for the other hand. Now let 
me go.” 

A long breath, a fluttering of the thin lips, the 
bugle call came from the army beyond the river, and 
at the mystic angel’s summons Little Ned joined the 
ranks of his comrades gone before. 


CHAPTER XLII. 


01 T> FRIENDS. 

One morning in the early J une, the doctor entered 
the hospital with a joyous face ; his face was even 
kind. God bless the doctors of both armies ! in 
brain and feeling as a class they were the noblest of 
the enemy, the most unselfish of the patriots. 

“ Major, you are strong enough to travel now.” 

“ Yes, doctor, I feel all right. I have been a long 
time on my w T ay to Montgomery.” 

“ This afternoon you start, still on your parole of 
honor, to report to the commanding officer there.” 

“ I am very sorry at the thought of leaving you, 
dear doctor. I wish to say, however, that there is 
not a man in either army, whom I would be more re- 
joiced to see 4 when this cruel war is over/ ” 

“ I can say the same, major. God grant that the end 
may soon come, and let the result be as it may, so 
great is the issue, in its results on mankind, that I 
will cheerfully accept.” 

The doctor sat down beside the major, and laid his 
hand on his knee. 

“ Do you remember the day General Wharton went 
to see you in jail?” 

“ No, doctor. I think of that place as a terrible 
nightmare. The memories are confused and the re- 
alities blended so with the equally horrible dreams, 


532 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


that I cannot separate them. From you I have 
learned of Wharton’s kindness. He is as honest in 
his convictions as he is brave in his heart. May God 
spare him to see the error of his ways.” 

“ I had a letter frbm him a few days since. He is 
going back to Texas, to take a command under Gen- 
eral Magruder, who is in charge of that depart- 
ment. He is particularly anxious for your recovery. 
By the way, you were wounded — that fearful hole in 
your breast — at Stone Biver, as your people call the 
battle. I was there. We call the fight Murfrees- 
boro.” 

“Yes, doctor, I came near being mustered out 
there, and, what was to me equally hard, I lost my 
horse Bon — one of the finest animals in the land 
to-day.” 

“ Wharton got that horse subsequently. He 
writes me that the animal is now at Lefranc’s, near 
Montgomery, and that gentleman is to give him to 
you on your personal application for him, which of 
course can only be at the close of the war.” 

“I won’t swear to that, doctor, though the chances 
are against me. What is the news, though ? 1 have 

not heard for a long time ? ” 

“ Sherman is pushing through Georgia, and Joe 
Johnston, with an army inferior in numbers, is bravely 
contesting every stream and hill where he can make 
a stand. Grant has been terribly worsted at Cold 
Harbor, and has pontooned the James, and laid siege 
to the key of .Richmond, Petersburg. Our people are 
raiding around Washington, and the balance is about 
the same. Lincoln and McClellan are opposite can- 
didates for the Presidency — and England, it is thought, 


OFF FOR MONTGOMERY. 


533 


will intervene in behalf of the South. She must 
have cotton, and here is her only supply.” 

“ I do not care much about England’s attitude ; the 
day will come when the South will detest her selfish 
course as the North does. She is the Israelite of na- 
tions, and would glory if she could make money from 
the garments of the Liberty she is helping to crush. 
The other part of the situation is against you. Sher- 
man means Atlanta, and Grant will have Richmond 
before twelve months pass. I cannot doubt the re- 
sult, doctor, without doubting the existence of a God, 
and that I cannot do — would not want to do and live.” 

“We are both honest in our convictions, major. 
Let the subject drop. I have carefully complied with 
your request about Little Ned’s grave. We got the 
money those scoundrels stole from you in jail. It 
only took one-lialf to make the grave and inclose it 
properly ; here is the rest — forty dollars in gold. I 
wish it was the medium of circulation now,” said the 
doctor, as he pressed the money into Major Warren’s 
hand and rose to depart, 

Robert felt deeply the kindness of this good man, 
and, in his plans for the future, when peace came, 
.Doctor Williamson, of Mobile, occupied a conspicuous 
place. 

That afternoon, at his own request, his parole was 
surrendered, and, in company with an officer, he 
started for Montgomery. They took the steamer for 
Blakely, passing the obstructions in the harbor, and 
sailing past Buchanan’s formidable iron-clads, des- 
tined yet to surrender to ships less invulnerable, 
guided by a cooler head. At Blakely they took the 
cars north for Montgomery. About midnight the 
45 * 


534 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


train stopped at Pollard, and next day Major Warren 
dined at Montgomery in company with Captain Lor- 
ing, the officer who accompanied him. 

“I wish you would take a parole. Major Warren, 
it would save me an unpleasant duty and be better 
for yourself,” said the captain, as they sat smoking 
after dinner. 

“ I fully appreciate your kindness, captain ; but it 
would not be just to you nor myself. I am deter- 
mined to get away as soon as I can. The facts of my 
capture are unknown in the Union army, and I dread 
being under a cloud till I get back to explain.” 

“ Well, I don’t blame you. I presume I would do 
the same thing myself. Promise me, at least, that 
you will remain here quietly till I return in about an 
hour,” said the captain, rising. 

“ Indeed, I would be an ingrate to deceive one so 
kind,” replied the major, reaching out his hand. The 
captain clasped it, looked into the major’s eyes, and 
thus they stood, breast to breast, as brothers of some 
mystic tie. In a whisper they exchange a few words, 
meaningless in themselves, but suggestive of a bro- 
therhood extended as civilization, and whose records 
date back to the days of tradition. 

The captain passed out, and the major resumed his 
segar and awaited his return. Two hours elapsed be- 
fore Captain Loring returned. He was accompanied 
by a tall, dignified, elderly gentleman in uniform, 
whom he introduced as Colonel Lefranc. Robert im- 
mediately thought of Hon, remembering what the 
doctor had told him. 

“I have heard of you, major, from my friend Gen- 
eral Wharton,” said the colonel, “and the last thing 


A “CARPET KNIGHT. 


635 


lie said to me was that he wished you were back again 
with your own people.” 

“ I am certainly obliged for all his kindness. I 
owe my life to him ; and I hope we may both be 
spared to see the end, that I can the better show my 
appreciation of his services.” 

“I regret that you will not take a parole, major. 

I should be pleased, in that event, to have you spend 
a few days with me. I am confident we could soon 
have you exchanged.” 

“ I am more thankful, colonel, than T can express ; 
but I fear the want of exercise for mind and body, 
which a parole would produce, might injure me.’’ 
Then laughing, he rose and walked to a mirror that 
hung over the mantel-piece, and, as he surveyed his 
pale face and reduced form, he continued, “ I don’t 
look as if I could injure you much, even if I were 
North. Ah, me J that sickness has made me a carpet 
knight.” 

The colonel laughed, and in his courteous way 
said : 

“ Heaven save the Confederacy from an army of 
such carpet-knights.” Then lowering his voice, in a 
sadder key he said : “ Major, I deplore the necessity 
of sending you to prison to-night. It is your own 
fault. We will make the jail as pleasant as possible 
for you, however.” 

“ Thank you, colonel. Let it be like temperance 
punch.” 

“ How is that?” 

“ Why, the weaker the better.” 

The captain gave Robert a quick, suggestive look, 
and all kindly laughing at what Robert called his 


636 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ sickly joke,” they descended from the room and 
walked around to the jail. 

The room into which Robert was ushered, with its 
carpet and furniture, looked like anything but a cell. 
He subsequently learned it was a part of the jailor’s 
quarters. Colonel Lefrane gave directions to have 
the major’s every want attended to. As the} passed 
out the captain said, in a low voice : “You will see 
me again, at eleven to-night.” Robert heard, and his 
heart gave a bound of joy. There was a something 
in the captain’s manner that spoke of an approaching 
deliverance. 

Anxiously Robert paced the room, and tried to read 
the books so thoughtfully provided, but he seemed 
more a prisoner now than when, in Mobile, he stood 
on the iron bed and tried to catch beyond the blank 
wall a glimpse of the setting sun. Then he would 
have run any risk for freedom ; now bonds of kindness 
and a load of gratitude were on him harder to break 
and remove than the restraints of the cold-blooded 
Dennis. Eleven o’clock came, as lie heard by the 
clock in the adjacent steeple, and no captain. Slowly 
twelve came, and with the last clang of the bell he 
heard an emphatic rap at his door. In answer to his 
“ Come in !” the door opened and a bearded man, with 
a slouched hat and heavy riding boots, stepped to his 
side, and in a low, gruff voice said : 

“ Now is your time ! Follow me ! ” 

Quick as a flash Robert put on his hat and threw 
over his shoulders the gray cape the doctor had se 
kindly insisted on his taking. 

“ I am ready ! ” 

“ This w ay ! ” 


BROTHERS, NOT FRIENDS.” 


637 


He followed the guide down stairs, out into the 
star-lir, quiet street. 

“Walk by my side.” As his guide spoke the 
rapidity and length of his strides increased, and his 
spurred heels came down with a fierce emphasis at 
each strong step. Out through the town they quickly 
passed and reached the Alabama Rivera little above. 
Standing by the water’s edge, the guide whistled, and 
suddenly a light sprang up amid the dark green 
foliage of the opposite bank. Soon a boat put out, 
rowed by a man dressed like the guide, and equally 
taciturn. The boat had hardly touched the shore 
before Robert, at a motion from the guide’s hand, 
leaped in, and the guide himself, with a powerful 
push, accompanied by a leap that sent him into the 
bow of the boat, shoved it far out in the stream. 

A few seconds and they were across, where a negro 
held a flaming torch, showing in the background two 
horses. 

“Major Warren,” said the guide, “ you will find 
your horse Don in the woods. You are now free. In 
the saddle-bags you will find money and instructions ; 
follow them out carefully.” 

“How can I thank you? God bless you, more 
than friend!” said Robert, with unsuppressed emo- 
tion, as he extended his hand. The guide took it, 
and as he covered the grip with his left hand he said : 

“ We are brothers, not friends. May God lead you 
to the light.” 

Robert shook hands with the man who brought over 
the boat, receiving the same mystic sign as he said : 

“If in your army an opportunity presents itself to 
aid a brother from our side, do by him as we this 


538 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


night have done by you.” The soldiers turned, en 
tered the boat, and with a few rapid strokes were lost 
in the darkness that hung over the river. 

“Where do you come from, boy?” asked Kobert, 
turning to the negro, who had extinguished thf; torch. 

“Ps one ob Mauss Lefranc’s boys.” 

“ Do you know who those gentlemen are w( u have ' 
just crossed the river?” 

“Yes, mauss, de one wat come Tong wid yorf i Cap’n 
Loring; de odder’s young Mauss Wash. Lefts iC.” 

“Show me Don, my horse.” The black L)oy led 
him back from the river, where, ’mid a clump of trees, 
the horses were fastened. A low neigh of ret jgnition 
from Don, and Robert stood beside him with his arms 
about the noble animal’s neck. 

“Don, old boy, this seems like a dream. You old 
scamp, what made you run the wrong way af er I fell, 
eh?” 

Robert striked the arched neck and pitted the 
sleek sides as he spoke, while Don rubbed his nose 
against him, and with affectionate little neighs, in 
tended for a satisfactory explanation, he er joyed the 
meeting more than he could express. 

The black boy arranged the bridle, s.nd Robert 
vaulted into the saddle. He was a mar again, free, 
with a good horse beneath him. The stars shone 
more brightly, and the cool night wind came grate- 
fully to him, and the certain past became a dream 
and the uncertain future hope made a reality. 

“Boy, you are to guide me.” 

“Yes, mauss, I goes Tong wid yell ( 11 day 

“ Are you ready ?” 

“Yes, mauss,” said the black boy, mounting and 


IN GOOD CARE. 


639 


starting at a brisk trot up the river. Robert longed 
to let his horse out, and enjoy once more the exhila- 
rating feeling of a gallop on his favorite horse. And 
Don seemed equally anxious to show his limbs had 
not lost their ancient fleetness, but he was equally 
anxious to show hi$ obedience, and sensibly remained 
behind the heavy, plodding animal which the black 
guide rode. 

Shortly after daylight the black man stopped be- 
fore a house, and requesting the major to remain out- 
side, he took from his pocket, where it was carefully 
wrapped, a letter, and entered. In a few minutes a 
man in slippers and a wrapper appeared, and stand- 
ing on the gallery called out : 

“ Dismount, major ; your horse will be cared for. 
Welcome — you are just in time for breakfast.” This was 
said as the major approached the gallery, and in the 
hand greeting that he received he felt the sign that 
convinced him he was still under the care of brothers. 
The hospitality was as thoughtful and generous as 
the refined planter’s ever is. After a good bath and 
a hearty breakfast, for which the major had a good 
appetite, the planter told him he must rest till night, 
when he would send a guide with him to Kingston ; 
in the meantime he would send back Colonel Lefranc’s 
boy. 

When Robert went to his room, he felt the stiff- 
ness resulting from his ride, and was glad to stretch 
himself on the white, clean bed. He was about sink- 
ing into a doze, when he bethought him of the in- 
structions which Captain Loring told him were in 
his saddle-bags. He anxiously opened the package 
addressed to himself. The first thing he saw was * 


540 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


roll of Confederate money, and then a letter. He 
read the letter, which briefly stated the cause that 
led to the captain’s friendship, and the hope for his 
successful escape. It said that he could count on 
friends, and need have no fears till after leaving 
Kingston, Perry County ; then he must use his own 
judgment. A small map of the Southern States was ’ 
found in the package, with a route marked down lead- 
ing to Baton Rouge, and which Robert determined to 
take, passing next by York and South of Meridian. 

He had a most refreshing sleep that day, not wak- 
ing till Mr. Norton knocked in person at his door, 
and came to summon him to supper. 

About eight o’clock his horse was brought out, and 
Mr. Norton, giving careful instructions to one of his 
own men, who was to act as guide, bade the major 
God-speed. 

During his stay with Mr. Norton, that gentleman 
never once mentioned the war, nor alluded to the 
fact that the major was a Yankee, escaping to the 
Union lines to take up arms against him and his 
friends. 

It was eight o’clock next morning before the black 
boy reined in his horse before a large house, near the 
Methodist church in the rambling village of Marion. 

“Mauss Clark, de brudder, libs heah.” 

“Whose brudder, boy?” 

“My brudder, an your brudder, an’ de Lor’s.” 

“Oh, he is a clergyman ! — all right.” 

The black boy entered the house, and Robert dis- 
mounted to rest and await him. 

An old, venerable-looking man soon made his ap- 
pearance, and, after warmly greeting the major, whom 


RESTED. 


541 


he addressed by name, he sent the black boy with the 
horses to an adjacent livery stable. 

46 Come in, brother, you need food and rest ; thank 
God, it is in my power to give you both.” 

It was a clean, quiet house, with books scattered 
at>out, and evidences in furniture and pictures of re- 
fined taste and a woman’s hand. 

Breakfast was soon prepared, and, althougn Mr. 
Clark had eaten before, he sat down with his guest, 
and offered up a blessing, sweet in its charity and 
kindness, for the food the major was about to enjoy. 

The room in which the major slept was cool and 
airy, and during the day, in a half-conscious way, he 
heard a low, sweet voice, and listened as in dreams to 
the soft, quick steps of a woman’s feet. He felt better, 
rested bettey for it. 

He rose about the middle of the afternoon, and 
found Mr. Clark awaiting him. 

“You have a long ride, with much fatigue and 
danger, before you. Let me hope, brother, that you 
have rested well. Robert assured him that he had. 

“ Beyond this, I fear there is no one you can trust ; 
but I would advise you to go out by York. You 
could, perhaps, reach your people sooner by going 
north, but the road to you would be dangerous, and 
the probabilities of a return to captivity strong.” 

“I am very thankful, sir, and will take your ad- 
vice.” 

“You must start before dark, so as to reach the 
Cahawba road. By twelve o’clock to-night you can 
reach Corsin’s Tavern. Your own discretion must be 
exercised as to your remaining there.” 

Mr. Clark then led Robert into the room where he 
46 


642 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


had breakfasted, and where the table was set for two. 
Again the good man prayed, and asked God for a 
speedy peace in a way that to Him would seem just 
and right for his people and the holy cause of reli- 
gion. 

The adventures of the past few days seemed like a 
dream to Robert, and he only realized again the cause 
when, before mounting, he held the good man’s hand 
with the grip of sworn fidelity. 

He was now alone, and though the future seemed 
uncertain, and must be shaped by circumstances, he 
felt more like a man. He reached the place, which 
he recognized from Mr. Clark’s description as Cor- 
sin’s Tavern, about eleven o’clock that night. In- 
forming the landlord that he wished to remain for the 
night, and that his hotel was recommended by Mr. 
Clark, of Marion, he found the sallow-looking host 
quite willing to care for him and his horse. The 
accommodation was not good, but the guest was not 
particular, and willingly paid the twenty dollars 
charged him in the morning. In answer to Robert’s 
inquiry, after he had mounted in the morning, Mr. 
Corsin advised him to keep north of York, and as- 
sured him that by a ride of forty-five miles he could 
reach his brother’s place. This brother, he said, was 
a planter, but since the war “ he was in the habit of 
keerin’ for travelin’ folk.” 

Getting the directions carefully, Robert bade the 
bilious landlord farewell and turned his horse’s head 
west. 

He traveled through a country rich in all its natural 
advantages, but poor in its people and their industries. 
The section had not been injured by the war, but in 


“ ARCHY, MY BOY ! ” 


643 


its dilapidated buildings and broken fences and half- 
tilled fields it looked as if suffering some fearful 
scourge. 

Once or twice Robert lost his way, but he suc- 
ceeded in finding Corsin’s plantation shortly after 
dark. Giving the black man who took his horse par- 
ticular instructions as to his care, Robert entered the 
house. The proprietor was in Meridian, but his wife, 
a slovenly, aguish-looking woman, with very bad teeth 
and a protruding chin, aided by a one-armed ex- 
soldier, had charge of the place. Robert was roomed 
in an out-building, and as there was nothing to enter- 
tain him he retired early. 

He was sleeping soundly about midnight, when he 
became conscious of the presence of some person in 
his room, and his eyes were affected by a faint light. 
He turned his head, and there, standing beside him, 
with a look of wonder and joy on his face was Archy ! 
Quick as a flash the light went out. 

“ Archy, my boy ! ” 

“ Oh, bless de Lor’, Mauss Bob ! ” Archy threw 
his arm over his master, and sobbed with very joy. 

“ Oh, de Lor’ is good — better ’n I, a poor sinner, 
kin ’spect.” 

“ How have you been, Archy? Is this man Corsin 
the fellow that bought you ? ” 

“Yes, Mauss — God forgive him! He’s beat me 
offen, an’ I wanted to die, but a th inkin’ on you and 
de pickanninies ” 

“ Well, Archy, I have had a rough time. I am 
now escaping. What time is it ? ” 

“ It ’s de middle ob de night.” 

“ Did you see Don? ” 


544 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“ Praise de Lor’, yes. Where did he come from? ” 

“I will tell you all, after awhile. Don is fresh 
enough to travel.’ ’ 

“ Yes, mauss, reckon he ’dkeep it up fur a week.” 

“ Are there any other horses in the stable ?” 

“ Yes, mauss, two.” 

“ Saddle the best of them, and Don, at once, I vcill 
iress ; are there any arms about the house?” 

“Do n’t know, Mauss.” 

“ Well, get the black people to see, I will pay them. 
Be quick and quiet.” As Robert spoke he rose and 
hurriedly dressed, and Archy passed out. 

The work of saddling was short, and as Robert and 
Archy stood beside their horses an old negro man, 
barefooted, stole softly from the house. 

“Ileah, four pistols an’ all de fixens, an’ a rifle.” 

“Thank you uncle, some day I will bring you 
liberty, to pay for this.” 

To which the uncle replied, “Lor’ heah de prayer.” 

The pistols were loaded, and strapping them on 
Robert and xirchy mounted, the latter carrying the 
rifle. A quiet ride for a few hundred yards, then, as 
in days gone past, master and man were on the war- 
path and free. 


ROBERT'S FAITH. 


547 


were suggestive to him of former scenes of danger, 
and exploits as wonderful as those which make ro- 
mantic the knights of the middle ages. From the 
day when he crossed it escaping to Kentucky to the 
night when in the boat he crossed with Rose, the era 
of startling events was pictured on his mind. He 
crossed first feeling that right would triumph and 
that the fragments of the flag he carried in his breast 
would yet float in triumph over the Court-house from 
which it was torn. Now, after years of suffering and 
battle, during which many of those he loved had 
fallen, and thousands of those with whom he had 
fought had gone down to soldiers’ graves. Now, be- 
fore Petersburg Grant’s legions were digging to unearth 
treason, and before Atlanta Sherman was maneuver- 
ing for victory. Banks had been defeated on the 
Red River, Sturgis beaten beyond Memphis, Fort 
Pillow had left its dark mark on the map, and the 
stories of rebel prisons become facts which his own 
terrible experience could verify ; still the faith remained 
unshaken, the love of liberty intensified, and the cer- 
tainty of a triumphant return to Texas became an 
affair assure as existence. Once Robert Warren had 
heard a southern man say, that “if the Confederacy 
failed, he would lose his faith in a God.**’ 

He always thought that if the cause of the nation 
went down, the cause of God and man would go with 
it, and he felt that God never permitted His cause 
to go backward. 

John Wharton, had risen to honor and distinction 
in the Southern army. He was the bravest of the 
brave, and the truest of the true, to the cause he 
deemed right. During Warren’s imprisonment, as a 


546 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Robert learned at Baton Rouge that he was reported 
killed, and Colonel Fellows showed a number of news- 
paper eulogies, all speaking in the highest terms of 
the Union scout, and deploring his untimely death. 

Only those who have been captives away from 
the protection of their own flag can appreciate the 
feelings of one returning, after what seemed an age, to 
his own land, made so by the banner under which he 
fought and not by the geographical position of the 
place where it floated. 

General Banks was acquainted at once with the 
escape of Warren and ordered him to report at his 
headquarters, in New Orleans. Before doing so, he 
sent on to Vicksburg for his effects, the principal 
things amongst them being the remnants of the old 
flag torn down from the flagstaff at Brazoria in the 
March of ’61. He wrote to Mary, stiil working in the 
hospitals at Nashville, and to Richardson, now fight- 
ing with Sherman before the defenses of Atlanta. 

Robert learned with regret, at Baton Rouge, of the 
death of old Pawn, and he remembered, in connec- 
tion with the date, the death- words of little Ned. We 
are all superstitious, no matter what creed or belief 
we hold and the coincidence made an impression 
on the mind of Warren which only death can efface. 
Perhaps death will confirm the event by showing the 
relations existing between the peoples of the seen 
and unseen worlds. 

Ten days at Baton Rouge and Robert Warren, who 
had entered the place weakened by travel and the 
want of rest, was ready with his servant to obey the 
order of General Banks, and report at New Orleans. 

lie descended the river, the very waters of which 


CHAPTER XLIII 


THE LAST BUT ONE. 

It would be a repetition of much that has been said 
to narrate in detail the incidents and adventures of 
Warren’s escape westward from York with his servant. 
In itself the story would be a marvel of coolness, 
daring, and escape ; but as a link in the chain of an 
eventful career, it would be but the additional con- 
firmation of the character Robert Warren has already 
established in these pages, and in the liberty of his 
country. Long rides by night, with negro guides ; 
days spent in the woods, with man or master on 
guard ; fears of pursuit, and hopes of the vicinity of 
friends ; detours to the North or South, and retrograde 
movements when there was danger in the advance ; 
days of hunger and nights of rain, unsheltered, all 
went to make up the outlines of that escape to Baton 
Rouge. 

It was the middle of the summer of ’64, when 
ragged and half famished, Robert, on the still spirited 
but emaciated Bon, and Archy, on a mule he had 
borrowed, one early day-light, entered the town of 
Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Major Warren’s fame had 
preceded him, and after the officer in command at 
Baton Rouge became satisfied as to his identity, hc m 
received that cordial welcome which only a soldier 
can give, particularly if he came from Massachusetts 
46 * 


648 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


favor to himself, and, as it was supposed, for the good 
of the Confederacy, he was sent beyond the Missis- 
sippi, where he was destined to fall by the hands of 
an assassin, w r ho was warmly enlisted in the Southern 
cause, and who had that Southern idea of right, which 
made the wronged the judge of his own case, and the 
executioner of the penalty his own uncurbed passions 
might dictate. J ohn Morgan was in Tennessee at that 
time, it was the limit of his exploits, for he fell by a 
Union bullet, and his daring became a subject for 
Southern tradition after that summer of , 64. Allen 
Warren was a colonel with Rousseau, and his cool 
daring had won the respect of the Army and led to his 
favorable mention in the reports of a chief unsparing 
with his praise. 

The cause of the Union looked well. Had it ap- 
peared darker, it would not have shaken Warren’s 
faith. His case was that of the enlisted minority, 
through whose' faith and valor the w r ar was brought 
to a successful issue. 

New Orleans in ’64, apart from the important 
Union element, was the New Orleans of 1861 — trea- 
son-loving, negro-worshiping, and devoid of virtue 
and religion. Cowardly gamblers, old Southern men, 
and women lost to all sense of decency and right, 
comprised the major part of a population never noted 
for its tone of justice, or its adherence to the dec- 
alogue. The men who wore the blue in J G4 as in ’61, 
and later, were objects of insult and ridicule to per- 
sons who lacked the pride to show openly their hate. 
Butler, coarse and lacking sensibilities, with a strong 
heart and a cool head, was the proper man for New 
Orleans ; and though now working in the useless 


MR. HENRY. 


549 


Dutch Gap Canal, the lesson he had taught New Or- 
leans traitors was not forgotten by them under the 
milder rule of Banks. 

The reception Major Warren received at New Or- 
leans compensated him for all his sufferings, and, after 
a few days’ stay, he learned with a feeling of delight 
that he was to be sent as provost marshal to New 
Iberia, near which he remembered Mr. Henry, the 
friend of his sister, lived. 

New Iberia, as has before been stated, is situated 
on the Bayou Teche, a few hours’ ride from Berwick’s 
Bay. Around it is the heart of Louisiana, in wealth 
and culture, the largest slave interest, and the strong- 
est Southern feeling. 

The position of Major Warren was anything but 
pleasant. Daily, for the first two weeks, he was beset 
by men whose slaves had run away, and who claimed, 
in order to have them recovered, to be Union men, 
^and by persons who were continually complaining 
against the asserted robberies of Union soldiers. 

One day a gentleman sent in his card, marked “im- 
portant,” and signed “ Henry.” It did not take long 
for the gentleman to gain an audience. An orderly 
brought him into the major’s bffice. 

“ Mr. Henry, I believe this is your card?” 

“Yes, sir, I wished to see you privately.” 

“ I can speak with you privately here, sir. Ser- 
geant, clear the office.” 

The sergeant did clear the office, and Major Warren, 
half surmising who the man was, pointed Mr. Henry 
to a chair. 

“Excuse me, Major Warren, but I heard of the ar- 
rival of a person of your name in New Iberia. I own 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Bt>0 

property near here, but, for the last two years, I have 
been living in Algiers, opposite New Orleans. A lady 
who supposes you to be her son is now stopping at my 
house.” 

“ What ! Where did the lady come from?” 

“She came from Gonzelletta, Texas, and is tho 
widow of Robert Warren, senior.” 

“ And the mother of Robert Warren, junior ! I am 
her son.” 

Robert shook the hand of Mr. Henry, warmly, and 
added, as he drew his chair near that gentleman’s : 

“Are you the friend of Mary Warren — the gentle- 
man who accompanied her from Texas, and saw her 
safely off for Vicksburg?” 

“ I did accompany the young lady as you describe, 
and I am convinced she is your sister ; but I have 
more important information for you than that, for it 
has become a matter of the past.” 

“ To what do you refer?” 

“Well, major, I have now under my roof three 
ladies in whom you are interested. One of them is 
your mother, the other two are Mrs. Boardman and her 
daughter Amy. I presume you know the latter lady ? ” 

“ Indeed I do, Mr. Henry ; and I am glad to know 
they are in the care of a man so good and true as I 
know you to be. I learned that Mrs. Boardman had 
suffered by the confiscation of her property, but I 
could not learn, heretofore, what had become of them.” 

“ The coincidence was strange. I learned your 
mother’s condition, and that of Mrs. Boardman and 
Miss Amy, from your sister, and I was prepared for 
what followed, though I did not expect to be the in- 
strument of help to them.” 


NEWS OF DEAR ONES. 


65i 


~ I am deeply interested in this matter, Mr. Henry ; 
please relate it. For more than two years, since my 
sister left Texas, I have been in total ignorance of 
the condition of my mother and of Mrs. Boardman 
and her daughter, to whom, you may have learned, I 
am engaged.” 

“ It was to tell you of this that I came on from 
Algiers. Once, major, my plantation was the finest 
on the Teche. I had scores of hands and hundreds 
of cattle, and was considered wealthy. To-day I am 
poor. General Banks, on the side of the Union, and 
Dick Taylor, on the side of the rebels, have carried 
off negroes and cattle. In a fight, that occurred last 
year, my dwelling and sugar-house were burned down 
to make room for Taylor’s artillery, and the slaves 
that he did not carry off attached themselves to the 
pursuing army of Banks. I was fortunate in having 
some property in New Orleans, which enables me to 
live in a quiet way for the present ; but so small have 
been my losses and sufferings compared with yours, 
that I feel ashamed for having mentioned them in 
your presence.” 

“ God bless you, Mr. Henry ! It does me good to 
meet such a man, and it strengthens my faith as to 
the result of this terrible war ; but tell me about my 
mother and the rest of my friends in your care.” 

“ Excuse me, major, I ought to have done so at once, 
but somehow self will crop out, and the subject daily 
nearest to the heart is the one most apt to engage 
our attention. Your time is fully occupied, so I will 
not detain you, except by a brief sketch of affairs in 
which I know you are as much interested as myself.” 

“ You interest me by the recital of your own affairs. 


652 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


They are so closely blended with mine that every 
word interests me.” 

“You are as kind as I expected, major. Let me 
say I was deeply interested in your sister, and was 
known, I think, as a Union man in this part of the 
State. In ’62, or rather the latter part of that year, 
there was quite an exodus of Union people from 
Texas. They sought out my house instinctively, and 
I think I can say with truth they always found in me 
a friend. I expected your mother. Indeed, I looked 
for Mrs. Boardman and Miss Amy, and perhaps 
Cooper Johnson and Mr. Bell. I knew all about the 
Union people in your part of Texas, and when your 
immediate friends reached me I was glad to know 
that the wife and mother of your friend Gaines were 
permitted to remain. You, of course, know about 
that infamous confiscation act, and the vile ‘ Receiv- 
ers/ as they are called, who were appointed by the 
Southern government. Under that order, or act, I 
have forgotten which it was, your mother lost her 
property, and subsequently Mrs. Boardman was turned 
out of her place, a man named Church purchasing 
the property when it was put up for sale. The three 
ladies started east, hardly knowing their destination, 
and they reached New Iberia destitute and without 
friends. There were others besides myself true to 
the Union. Mr. Tabard, a French gentleman, ac- 
quainted me with the arrival of your friends, and I 
can assure you I was not slow in finding them out. 
It was impossible for them to go North at the time, 
and I was more than glad to be able to offer them my 
protection. Since then they have been living with 
me, sharing my privations and waiting with me for 
the end.” 


EN ROUTE. 


553 


Mr. Henry ceased, and Robert grasped his hand. 

“ I cannot thank you, my friend. Those whom you 
have aided are dear to me as life ; without them I 
would not ask to live beyond the restoration of my 
country. Where is Amy, now ; where is my mother?” 

“They are all in Algiers.” 

“ I wish I had known that before. I was for ten 
days in New Orleans. I might have been with you 
all the time.” 

Mr. Henry handed the major a letter as he ceased 
speaking. On opening it, it proved to be an order 
from General Banks directing him to turn over his 
office to Colonel Whiting and report at once to him 
at New Orleans. 

That night Colonel Whiting was provost marshal 
of New Iberia, and Major Warren, in company with 
Mr. Henry, was en route to Berwick’s Bay, where they 
expected to find the boat en route to New Orleans. 


CHAPTER XLIV 


GONZELLETTA. 

It was October, 1865. The weather was soft and 
balmy, and the green woods, and yellow plains, and 
white cotton fields, about Gonzelletta made a tropical 
picture, of which the eye did not soon weary. The 
cattle, sleek and fat from the summer’s pasturage, 
covered the prairies, and the cotton pickers’ songs, 
with chorus and laughter, came from the fields about. 
As when our story began, Mrs. Boardman and her 
daughter were sitting in the wide gallery. The mo- 
ther, with a look of calm contentment on her matronly 
face, marked by a few more fine lines about the eyes 
and mouth than when first we saw her. Amy, the 
same bright, impulsive girl, a little more dignified in 
her bearing and more womanly in her full develop- 
ment. 

“ Mother, they ought to have been here three days 
ago. If they do not arrive this afternoon I shall be 
alarmed. I think it ’s not kind in Robert, to be so 
positive about the day he would get back, when he 
must know how a disappointment would annoy me.” 

Amy’s lip trembled as she spoke. 

“My dear child, I fear your experience has not 
taught you patience. There is some good reason for 
Pmbert’s not coming. You know his mother was not 
strong when he took her away ; and then he wished 


NEWS OF TOM. 


655 


to arrange fully in Washington about this place and 
his own, which the rebels had confiscated.” 

Mrs. Boardman stopped, attracted by the approach 
of a number of soldiers, accompanied by an officer. 
A short distance from the house the officer permitted 
his men to rest under the fig trees and walked toward 
the gallery. 

“Welcome, Captain Chamberlain ; any news from 
the San Bernard ?” 

Captain Chamberlain, a handsome young man with 
an empty sleeve, saluted the ladies with a cordiality 
that bespoke an intimate acquaintance and, sitting 
down, said : 

“The people on the San Bernard are gradually 
cooling down. It does n’t pay to insult United States 
soldiers. Ever since we sent old Gamble away from 
these pleasant quarters the rebels keep their thoughts 
to themselves. By the way, what has become of the 
Townsend family ? I have lost sight of them since 
they left the Warren plantation.” 

“ I think they went West,” said Mi's. Boardman. 
“Mr. Townsend sold all his property in order to secure 
the Warren plantation. Of course, the title to the 
purchaser of his own property was good. Unfortu- 
nately for him, the ‘ Confederacy,’ as they call it, 
could not give as secure a title to his avaricious 
acquisitions, and he is to-day a poor man, wherever 
he is.” 

“The reason I asked about Townsend,” said the 
captain, “ is that a son of his, who had been in the 
Texas Bangers, returned to Brazoria this morning. 
He w T as led by a black boy named Tom. I think the 
boy told me his name was Tom Boardman.” 


056 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“Why, that ’s my Tom,” said Amy quickly. 
“ That’s the boy I gave Mary Warren when she went 
North during the war. Now I remember, Henderson 
Townsend was present when Mary was arrested, and 
"Robert — I mean Colonel Warren — told me he thought 
Townsend had him.” 

“ Did I understand you to say~that the boy led this 
man?” asked Mrs. Boardman. 

“Yes; Townsend is completely blind, though one 
would hardly think so to look at his eyes. I spoke 
to him, and he told me that he left the Rangers in 
'64, and that the explosion of a shell near Nashville 
had deprived him forever of sight.” 

Amy held down her head as she said, in a low, 
distinct voice : 

“God’s ways are past our finding out. Nearly five 
years ago that man, vain and weak and boastful, sat 
where you now sit, captain ; and when I told him the 
flag of the Union would yet float from the court- 
house from which men like him in feeling, but better 
in heart, had torn it he said : ‘ So help me God , these 
eyes vrill he blasted before they rest on Bob Warren 
here .’ They never will ; but, thank God, Robert 
Warren lives and the flag floats there.” 

So deeply were all interested in what Amy was 
saying that they did not notice Gaines till he had 
dismounted and was fastening his horse near the 
house. He approached, walking with a perceptible 
lameness, the effect of a wound received on Sher- 
man’s march. He was accompanied by a poorly- 
dressed young black man, who bore a striking resem- 
blance to Mary’s body-guard. His identity was soon 
confirmed, for before Captain Gaines had reached 


“MAMMY IS DAT YOU?” 


557 


the gallery a black woman rushed from one of the 
outbuildings with hysterical cries of — 

“ Tommy ! Oh my Tommy, whar did yeh cum from, 
bless de Lor’, Tommy.” 

Had Tommy any religious thoughts about “blessing 
de Lor’” his ability to give any outward manifesta- 
tion of the fact was curtailed by the black arms about 
him and the whole- soul kisses that were lavishly 
poured on his hungry black face. He found time 
between the woman’s rude terms of endearment to ask : 

“Mammy is dat you?” not that he had the slightest 
doubt of the fact, but like all great travelers he did 
want to appear embarrassed. On being assured by 
the maternal lips of her relationship, Tommy extri- 
cated himself, and, placing his hands over the place 
supposed to be occupied by organs of digestion, he 
said ; 

“ Oh, golly, but I’se hungry.” This salutation was 
greeted with laughter by the party on the gallery, 
and Tommy bowing awkwardly to his former mistress 
precipitately retreated toward the kitchen with his de- 
lighted mammy. 

“I found that boy in Brazoria ” said Gaines laugh- 
ing, and I fed him till I really had fears for his life, 
but the poor fellow has evidently starved a great deal. 

“Did you see Townsend,” asked Captain Chamber- 
lain. 

“Yes, and a more miserable wretch I trust I may 
never see again. Some of our soldiers in the village 
gave him clothes, blue Yankee clothes, poor devil, all 
colors are alike to him now. We raised a collection 
for him and will send him West when we learn where 
his father is.” 


47 * 


558 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


“How is your family, captain? I heard ycur 
mother was not well,’’ said Mrs. Boardman. 

“ I never saw my wife looking better. She says 
she never felt better. My boy iias gotten over his 
strangeness and accepts the situation. He says he 
loves me, but would like me better if I had no beard 
like his grandma. I think my mother is stronger, 
though subject to those nervous attacks brought on 
by her anxiety while I was away. I came over to pay 
my respects, and bring you that poor black, but above 
all to see Miss Mary Warren and the Colonel, with 
his mother. He wrote me he would be here for cer- 
tain to-day.” 

“If Robert doesn’t come this afternoon, I shall be 
more provoked with him than I can express,” said 
Amy pettishly, Captain Gaines laughed. 

“ Miss Amy you must n’t give up now. I have a 
distinct recollection of the colonel’s leaving here one 
stormy night in March, ’61, and though you did not 
see him for nearly four years, I think I am safe 
in saying you never got provoked with him.” 

“ Why to be sure not, I made a virture of a neces- 
sity, but, Captain Gaines, every body knows the wed- 
ding is to be one week from to-day and Mary is 
bringing my trosseau with her. I cannot prepare in 
time if he does not come. However, I will not lose 
heart till the carriage returns from Columbia.” After 
a few minutes spent in general conversation the two 
gentlemen rose to go, Captain Chamberlain to visit 
the guard stationed on the Warren plantation, and 
Gaines to ride up the river, promising as he left to 
return early on the morrow. 

Tom was sent for after the visitors departed, and 


THE RETURN. 


659 


before be got through with his disjointed, and very 
amusing, narration of his adventures since he had left 
G-onzelletta, the sun was hanging from over the wooded 
line of the San Bernard, and flooding the prairie be- 
yond, and the groves of live oak in the direction of 
the Brazos. Amy had been watching anxiously, her 
eyes roaming over the brown, winding road that was 
lost to sight about a half a mile from the house. Sud- 
denly she bounded from her chair, as a cloud of dust 
rose in the distant grove through which the road ran. 
“ There is the carriage !” she exclaimed, “ Oh, they 
have come, mother, they have come !” and she bounded 
down the avenue of magnolia trees. The occupants 
of the carriage saw her, and waved their handker- 
chiefs in token of recognition. The driver urged 
forward the horses, and drew up as he neared Amy, 
who had been followed at a more deliberate pace by 
her mother. The door of the carriage opened, their 
was a cry of delight as a slender girlish form quickly 
descended and Mary and Amy were clasped in each 
other’s arms. There was a kissing and hand-shaking, 
and little joyful sobs all round, excepting the very 
pleasant part which Bobert performed, and the car- 
riage went on and the party walked back to the house, 
the girls with encircling arms and Bobert between 
the elder ladies. 

“ Oh Bobert, if you had not returned to-day I would 
have been fearfully angry.” 

“ And I fearfully disappointed,” said Bobert, as he 
ascended the steps and bent his bronzed face till his 
bearded cheek rested against the glowing one of the 
now beautiful girl. ;£ After awhile I will tell you the 
cause of our delay and then you will be glad that I 


560 


WAFKEN OF TEXAST 


was detained over one boat. No, I can ’t tell yon 
now ; here comes Archy, I want to speak with him.’’ 

The ladies entered the house, and Archy’s tall form 
was seen in the twilight, approaching with his sweep- 
ing stride through the grove. By his side walked, or 
rather ran, a bright bare-headed black boy about 
eight years of age. 

“ Hello, Archy ! ” was Bobert’s greeting. “ Glad 
to see you my boy,” grasping the strong, ever-faithful 
black hand. 

“ Clar’ to goodness, Mauss Bobut, I ’se been awful 
lonely since yeh lef’ two months ago. * Pears like 
years.” 

“Why Archy, I never imagined you would miss 
me, now you are home again all safe with Susey and 
the young ones. How are they.” 

“ Neber better, praise de Lor’ ! Heah’s one ob de 
pickaninnies. Bis is Bob. Called ? im arter you. 
Fore lieaben, Mauss Bobut, dem ar young uns gib me 
a heap o’ trubble durin’ de war. Howsomdever, it ’s 
all nicer now wen its ober. Whar ’s Mauss Tennessee, 
thought he was a comm’.” 

“ He will be here in a few days, Archy, with Major 
Bichardson. His wife was not able to travel or he 
would have come on with me. I left him in New 
Orleans.” 

“ Oh, golly, but Susey ’ll be glad to see dem men. 
I ’se tole her so much about ’em, she ’s nigh crazy to 
see ’em. Gosh, dar she is now ! ” As Archy turned 
at the familiar steps, Susey appeared on the gallery, 
leading the other pickaninny, a little girl. 

Fore heben, I’s glad to see yeh agin, Mauss 
Robut, an’ yeh aint agwine away no more, an’ yeh 


A HAPPY REUNION. 


561 


all a coinin' back to cle ole home; an’ whar’sMiss 
Mary? Tell, please.” 

Susey poured this out breathlessly, as she pressed 
her young master’s hand. 

“Here, Susey, here I am !” called out Mary from 
the house. 

A cry of joy from the black woman, and leaving 
the child on the gallery, she rushed in and threw hei 
arms about the slender form of the young mistress, 
and sobbed out, “ Praise de Lor’ ! Oh, gib thanks. Oh 
my darlin’ my own little miss ! My own purty little 
girl. Bress God, yeh ’s back ! safe back, safe back,” 
and Susey’s heart, too full of affection for expression 
in words, overflowed in tears, which she poured on 
the small white hands so many brave men had 
blessed. 

“Yes, home, thank God, Susey! Home with you 
all whom I love,” and the contagion of tears spread 
to her own eyes and those of Amy by her side. 
Archy came in and bowed over the little hand which 
he held, and rising applied the new bandana to his 
eyes, and said in a low voice : 

“ I’ve seen right smart trubble, Mauss Bob, with- 
out wettin’ my eyes, but clar to Massy I ’s so happy 
I can ’t help it. It ’s de bread we cas’ on de waters 
long ago, a returnin’, some ten, some a hundred foie.’ 

It would be hard to imagine a pleasanter reunion 
than that which gathered about Mrs. Boardman’ s supper 
table that evening. Susey, to her great delight, was 
permitted to remain and devote herself to the plate 
of her young mistress, while she listened in wonder 
to the narration of her adventures, leaving Texas, 
and the story of her labors in the hospital at Nashville. 


562 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


Mrs. Warren looked the happiness she felt, as she 
gazed on the faces of her dear ones and contrasted 
the joyful present with the gloomy past. After sup- 
per there was a clattering of heavy feet outside and 
black faces peered through the windows ‘ ‘ to see Mauss 
Bob, an’ de young miss, agin,” and “ Mauss Bob, an’ 
de young miss,” learning that the people were over 
from the old home to see them, went out on the gal- 
lery, where a cheer greeted them, and suddenly a hun- 
dred torches were lit about the house, and in the 
magnolia grove, each carried by a happy freeman, 
who, until the war, never knew he was a slave. 

After the black people had feasted their eyes, and 
sang and shouted themselves hoarse, at Robert’s re- 
quest, they quietly retired, and the white people re- 
entered the parlor. 

“ Robert, you promised to tell me the cause of your 
detention,” said Amy, as she took a seat beside him 
and laid one hand lovingly on his broad shoulder. 
“ I am dying with curiosity to know.” 

“Well, my dear little girl, rather than let your 
curiosity keep you in a condition which might result 
dangerously to my happiness, I will tell you. You 
have heard me speak about Major Richardson?” 

“Very often; and I am longing to see and love 
him.” She looked archly at Mary, and Mary blushed 
and cast down her eyes. 

“Never mind about loving him. If I did not ob- 
ject, Mary would, and I fear your affection would 
bring trouble to the camp.” He would have gone on, 
but Amy, with a coquettish little scream, placed her 
hand over his mouth and said he was “ awfully w icked 
to put such a construction on her words.” 


FRIENDS COMING. 


563 


“ I am going to tell you that Major Richardson, 
tfho had left me the day we were to have started from 
Washington, telegraphed from Philadelphia not to 
leave that night, as he would return by the next train 
to see me. We waited and lost the connection, keep- 
ing us back three days. The major had intended 
coming on in January, to be married (Mary dropped 
her head still lower), but I presume he realized fully 
his destitute and entirely desolate condition by the 
time he reached Philadelphia. When he returned he 
got the little nurse to consent, with the dear mother’s 
approval and big brother’s essential sanction that the 
wedding should take place here, on the same day and 
hour that the little affair in which you and I are in- 
terested comes off.” 

“ Oh, I am so glad you waited,” and the impulsive 
girl sprang to Mary’s side and raised the burning face, 
and kissed it again and again with a torrent of en- 
dearing names. 

“I did not tell you all, however. My cousim 
Colonel Allen Warren, is to come on with him, and 
your friends — indeed, all our friends, Mr. Henry and 
Louisa — will be here by the same steamer.” 

“ Oh, thank you, thank you, Robert ! It was very 
selfish and thoughtless in me to complain. I will 
never, never be thoughtless again. I ought to have 
known you would all be here but for some good 
reason.” 

It was the day before that set apart for the wedding, 
a beautiful, balmy day, with just enough wind coming 
from the gulf to vibrate the halyards pendent from 
the flagstaff on the court house at Brazoria. A num- 
ber of horses were fastened to the rack before the 


564 


WARREN OF TEXAS. 


tavern door, and a half dozen carriages were gathered 
in the adjoining sheds. The troops in blue that 
walked the streets appeared more smartly dressed 
than usual, with bright belt and shining side-arms, 
while near the glistening stacks of muskets in the 
court-house yard an armed guard paced, and groups 
of soldiers in full dress reclined on the yellow sward. 
The streets were crowded w T ith black men in holiday 
attire, while here and. there a bearded face, from be- 
neath a slouched hat, looked jealously on the scene. 

In the same room where on that fearful day of ’61 
a little band of Union men had gathered, there was 
another and a larger group about the table, and one 
black, wearing the blue, in their midst. 

44 My friends, although mustered out of service 
months ago, as were you, Richardson, and Gaines, 
and Colonel Allen Warren, Tennessee, and, I might 
add, Archy, I think it is eminently proper that on this 
occasion we should appear in the same harness which 
we wore while strugglingto bring this flag back to the 
Brazos.” Robert pointed to a flag on the table as he 
spoke, and addressed his remarks to a number of 
United States officers. 

His speech was applauded by the officers, and Cap- 
tain Chamberlain raised his arm so eloquent of his 
valor as he said : 

“ You have won the right to wear it. Thank God, 
Texas has some redeeming features.” 

“You will notice, my friends, on this blue field I 
have sewed, with my own hand, a number of tatters 
of the old flag. Some of you know the history of 
what, to an ordinary observer, would seem rags. The} 
are the remnants of the flag which floated ever yon- 


THE TATTERED FLAG. 


665 


der court-house before the secession of ’61. I saw 
that flag hauled down, torn to tatters, and trampled 
in the dust; and, when the infuriated crowd dis- 
persed, I picked these soiled tatters from the dirt ; 
and here, in this room, a little band of us swore never 
to rest till the flag came back to the Brazos. Of the 
men who raised their hands to Heaven that day with 
me, there is but one left. (Laying his hand on the 
captain’s shoulder.) * My brother-in-arms, and my 
devoted friend in peril — the gallant Andrew Gaines. 
I will not tire you, my friends, with a history of our 
trials, or the still sadder narration of the sufferings of 
the dear ones we left behind. I carried those tatters 
with me to Kentucky. They were in my breast at 
Somerset, Donelson, and Shiloh. A rebel bullet 
pierced them — see this star ! — before it entered the 
lung, where now it is lodged. I had them with me 
at Y icksburg ; but fortunately they were left in my 
trunk a few days before my capture. When I w T as 
stationed at New Orleans, where I spent the last eight 
months of my service, I had them sent down to me 
at once. I would have obeyed my first impulse at 
the close of the war by giving them to the free 
winds at once, when there were soldiers here to de- 
fend them ; but I remembered Gaines, and Tennessee, 
and Kichardson, and my noble cousin, and others 
whose faith was as strong, and whose efforts were 
greater than mine, and I decided that they should share 
my triumph. Of the men who hauled down the flag, 
but few are left. The noblest and bravest, John 
Wharton, was murdered by one of his own confeder- 
ates. Addison, a noble misguided lad, sleeps at John- 
son’s Island, where he died a prisoner in our hands. 

48 


WAKKEET OFTEXAS. 


fi66 

Bently, a gallant man, noble in his impulses, bat 
wrong in their direction, lies on the banks of White 
Oak River, in Tennessee. Others sleep on many bat- 
tle-fields ; a few wounded survivors, and others, home- 
less and friendless, are left. God knows I would and 
will do all I can to make them happy under the flag 
they did so much to ruin. 

Excuse me, my friends, I did not intend making 
a speech ; but my heart is full of the memories of the 
past, and with the pleasant surroundings of the pres- 
ent. Let us throw up this flag, and to-morrow eve- 
ning we will meet again at Gonzelletta.” 

“ The kernel’s head wuz allers level. I ’ll say that 
fur him, even though I knows he ’s agoin ter git mar- 
ried. I allers feared thar was sutliin of that kind 
wrong with him. Dogon’d, boys, if I aint glad ter be 
heah. I’ve suffered right smart myself. My father, 
brothers, and, wus than all, my little ones were taken ; 
but the ole woman’s left, and, down heah on the Bra- 
zos, we’re agoin to live an’ take a fresh start. I don’t 
feel sorry that I took a han’, friends, not by a darned 
sight. I’ve had my share of consolations with it all.” 

The officers descended the stairs after they had 
severally grasped the hand of the brave Tennessee. 
Outside they formed in order, Robert, Gaines, and 
Archy in the advance. The bugle sounded, the sol- 
diers fell in and seized their arms, and, as the three 
men entered the court-house with the flag, the officer 
in command gae the ringing order, “present arms ! ” 

A few minutes, and the flag was fast to the hal- 
yards, and, mid ringing cheers, it rose and streamed 
out, brighter and fairer, and freer than ever before, 
and every man gazing up at its folds shared equally 


A DOUBLE WEDDING. 


667 


in its protection, and looked to Heaven free. The 
tatters spake of its ancient glory. The shame and 
the disgrace were torn from it by traitors’ hands, to 
be kept separated from it by loyal ones forever. 

A shabbily -dressed man, leaning on the shoulder 
of a grey-clad comrade outside the yard said : 

“Taylor, what’s all the shoutin for ? ” 

“ Bob Warren has raised the flag.” 

“I will never see it again.” Henderson Townsend 
pressed his brown hand to his sightless eyes. 

There were women present, whose hearts overflowed 
at the scenes they had witnessed, and Mr. Henry, 
who, as a non-military man, remained with them, 
vowed it was the happiest day of his life. And when 
the officers gathered about the carriages, he told them 
they had committed a great oversight in not asking 
the bravest soldier of all, Mary Warren, to participate 
in the ceremonies. 

“Yes, the bravest and the best, would the world 
were like her,” said llichardson, as he looked fondly 
on the flushed face of the noble girl. 

There was a grand gathering at Gonzelletta next 
day, officers in uniform and grooms in full dress, sol- 
diers from the surrounding stations and gaudily dressed 
negroes from both plantations. A chaplain had come 
on from New Orleans to perform the ceremony, and 
Tennessee’s wife told Mrs. Gaines she “really never 
seed anything so awful fine in her life, nor gals so 
purty as the two agoin’ ter be hitched,” adding as 
she noticed Colonel Allen Warren and Louisa Henry 
much interested in each other at the end of the gal- 
lery, “Shouldn’t wonder a bit if them ’ar two would 
go nex’. They kinder strikes me that way.” 




WARREN OF TEXAS. 


And Mrs. Gaines, resting her hand on the head of 
her bright boy, said she “ would not be at all sur- 
prised.” 

It would no doubt interest many of our readers to 
give a detailed account of the wedding and the 
dresses, and how the brides behaved, and how the 
grooms conducted themselves. All passed off hap- 
pily, and the day was one of festivity and joy as Gojv* 
zelletta had never before seen. 

A few days after the wedding, for the young mar- 
ried people did not run off on a foolish bridal tour as 
if ashamed of what they had done, Richardson said 
to Robert : 

‘ - Mary will not want to leave here. I have, as you 
know, sold my property in Tennessee, and we have 
decided to settle permanently in Gonzelletta.” 

“Why, of course, I never dreamed of you going 
away. Mary has some ten thousand acres along the 
river. Mr. Henry has made up his mind to come here 
in a few months, and now that my uncle is dead and 
Bell married, I am sure Cousin Allen will come down 
and add to our settlement. I am the more assured of 
this as he and Miss Henry seem more devoted than I 
ever saw people on the same acquaintance.” 

It is 1870, and Texas, though rent by dissensions 
and disgraced by lawlessness for five years, has one 
place where there is peace and prosperity, because it 
is the abode of loyalty and intelligence — Gonzelletta, 
the home of Warren of Texas. 



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